


Underneath it All

by CeruleanMusings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Gen, Postpartum Depression, References to Depression, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanMusings/pseuds/CeruleanMusings
Summary: Melanie Crowe wanted to do two things: join the lacrosse team and conquer sophomore year with her best friend by her side. Then she had to get nosy and put herself in the middle of an adventure she could only dream up. Werewolves she can handle. Lizards she can handle. Learning that she may cause her friends' deaths? That will take a little longer to get used to.





	1. Birds of a Feather Flock Together

****

**ACT ONE**

Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather Flock Together

"Er-ri-caaaa!"

Three pleats of a honking horn punctuated the name that was stretched out that cool January morning. It was a morning that held a bright blue, cloudless sky. It was a morning that looked as if it belonged on a postcard or in a photograph. It was a morning of new beginnings.

It was the morning Melanie Crowe was going to kick Scott McCall's ass.

"Erica! Put your rear in gear!" Melanie yelled, honking the horn to her truck again. She sat in the driveway of the Reyes house, staring up at the window that overlooked the garage, waiting to see if Erica was finally ready to go to school. Melanie's fingers twitched against the steering wheel as she waited. If Erica didn't hurry up she'd leave her behind and get to the ass kicking that kept her muscles tense since she woke that morning.

Well, nerves played a part in that as well but Scott was the scapegoat she needed to put an extra pep in her step. For that day was the first day back at Beacon Hills High after the New Year and she wanted to start it off on a good foot. Last year's disaster was not going to repeat itself. The first remedy to that vow? Finally joining the Beacon Hills Cyclone lacrosse team. She may have had a set back last year but this year was hers, she could feel it.

Melanie's hand hovered over the horn once more, ready to disturb the peace again when, finally, the window flew up and Erica Reyes stuck her head out. "I'm not ready!" she called. "I have nothing to wear!" If her tousled blond hair and the large, gray sweats hanging off her body were of any indication, she didn't plan on leaving the house at all. And if Melanie weren't best friends with her, she would give in and let Erica stay there.

But they were best friends. And Erica was going to school whether she liked it or not.

Pumping the handle, she pushed open the door of her truck. It emitted an elongated creak, sounding much like her grandpa's knees when he tried to get up from his rocking chair. Once her feet here on the driveway, she closed her door, pulled her backpack through the lowered window, and then headed straight into the house. Even if it weren't unlocked she had a spare key made her for. How else was she going to have ease of access when Erica suffered through one of her 'I hate the world' meltdowns? And besides, what kind of friend knocked? At least, that's what Stiles always said.

That was the same thought that went though Melanie's mind as she barged her way right into Erica's room. Sure, there was the chance that Erica could be in the middle of changing but that was a slim chance. Erica preferred the privacy of the bathroom; even when they had to change for gym class Erica opted to do so in the bathroom stall. Dropping her backpack on the ground, Melanie surveyed her friend who had flopped down on her bed. Erica's blond hair splayed out in all directions beneath the pillow she'd pulled down over her face. Oh, this wouldn't do. With a click of her tongue, Melanie yanked the pillow upwards and lightly bopped Erica on the head with it. "You can't hide out here forever, Eri," she said.

"Who says?" Erica replied. She grabbed the pillow and held it against her stomach; Melanie knew she was trying to hide her thicker waist. It was still a source of contention for her. "If it was just you and me things would be fine." Erica's voice took on a wistful tone, one that made Melanie's face soften. "We could hide in a fort and...and watch RuPaul's Drag Race all day."

"While I love the sound of that, we do need to go," Melanie said. She grasped Erica's hand and attempted to pull her up but Erica's body flopped around as she acted as a counter weight.. "Eri, come on! I can't try out for lacrosse without you. I need you there."

Erica groaned, "No you don't."

"Yes I do," Melanie insisted. Her words a simple grunt as she strained. "I need your support." With a hefty pull, she managed to bring Erica up into a sitting position. Her round eyes, nestled within dark circles, gazed up at her, dull.

"I'm only going to bring you down." Erica tugged at a loose thread in her bright colored quilt. It resembled the tiles that ran through the Reyes home. "You have a real shot at making it. Your social stock will go through the roof. Then what? Epileptic Erica is just going to mess it all up for you." She sighed. "You're better off without me."

"Hey." Melanie knelt in front of the bed, taking Erica's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. "You listen to me. I'm better with you. Got it? Without you...I'm like peanut butter without it's jelly. Macaroni without it's cheese. Liver without it's onions. ...Yogurt without it's eggs!"

"...You're so weird," Erica managed to say through the effort she put into keeping a strange face. Melanie caught the sparkle returning to Erica's eyes. She grinned in triumph, leaned forward, and kissed Erica on the forehead. A little flutter took off in her stomach at the contact but she attributed it to her victory.

Grumbling, Erica got off her bed. Melanie took her place and Erica pushed hangers aside in her closet. "Are you seriously going to try out for the lacrosse team again?" When Erica got an affirmative mhm as a response she continued, "Coach Finstock didn't even let you try last year. What makes you think this year will be different?"

"Well, for starters, over the break I practiced as much as I possibly could to get in better shape." In fact, when Melanie wasn't stuffing her face with junk food over the holidays she spent the rest of her time at school. It was almost like she hadn't left with the rest of the student body, she became so focused on making the team. She ran up and down the bleachers, she pushed herself through a series of grueling sit-ups, push-ups, planks, russian twists, and even wall sits which she absolutely despised. But she kept her eye on the prize and did anything she could to improve her game. Scott and Stiles came out some days and they helped each other train and gave each other pointers; how to hold the stick better, taking a proper shot, and even tested their reaction times. her stick smacked the ball out of Scott and Stiles' hands more than they held onto them. It wasn't the high-powered opponent she wanted but beggers can't be choosers and if she were to make the team with anyone, it would be those two. When they showed up anyway! "I'm a hell of a lot better than Stiles is so I have that leg up. And, I have the principal on my side this time." Melanie reached into her pocket and pulled out a crinkled, folded envelope. "As he and I noticed, nowhere in the rules does it say a girl can't try out for a male sports team. And since we don't have a female lacrosse team, male lacrosse is it."

Erica sighed. "...By that you mean you called the principal nonstop until he gave in to listen to you?"

"...Maybe."

Erica grunted, read the letter, and then handed it back. "Are you sure you want to deal with Jackson again after last time?"

Melanie tucked the letter into the front pocket of her jean jacket. Did Erica need to remind her about last year every time? If Erica wanted no part in it, then Melanie didn't want a part in it either. Fair's fair. ...But she would have been fine if Jackson left her alone! She hasn't been the first person to split thier shorts in the world, for crying out loud. "Whittemore can suck a dick for all I care. I am making the team this year and that's that." She scoffed. "In fact, Scott was supposed to help me practice yesterday but he never showed. And when I tried to call him he didn't answer. Which is why we need to get to school, so I can kick his ass for standing me up."

Erica paused, holding a shirt up to her chest. She tilted her head and regarded her dark haired friend. Licking her lips, she asked, "…You're still into him, aren't you?"

"What? Me? Pfft. No. Psh! I'm over that. I've been over that." Melanie waved her hand as if waving away the notion. "This is just business." That's exactly what it was. Just business. She wasn't rushing to the school just to see the guy that always seemed to have a smile ready for her. The guy who always listened to her when she rattled on about a creature she read about. The guy who always seemed to have an extra Snickers bar with her name on it. Not at all. "I just think it's lame that you say you're going to do something and then you don't do it—and are you seriously going to go with that shirt and those pants?"

"What's wrong with it?" Erica looked down. Melanie grimaced at her choice of matching a brown shirt and white pants. She tugged on the ends of her hair and bit her lip. Melanie could practically see the gears turning in her head as she worried her lip between her teeth.

"Uhhh..." Pressure built in Melanie's face as she held her tongue. Shit. Erica hasn't been one to take any sort of comment since The Incident. If only that jackass hadn't taken out his phone and recorded her. It was tiring, treading lightly on eggshells and reconstructing her initial thoughts to soothe Erica's worries. But she did it without complaints. If Erica needed a little extra love and care so be it. "It's...not the best look."

"What were you really going to say?"

"...You'd look like an Oompa Loompa without the tan."

Erica released her lip from her teeth and tried to give Melanie a stern look but it didn't last long. Soon her face split into a smile and she found herself giggling. Sighing, Erica tugged the shirt over her head and went for another one.

"Listen, Eri, forget what happened last year, alright? Forget all those other years. Forget everything except you and me. That's all that matters. You and me. As long as we're together we can start over and make things right and make this year ours." Melanie held out her hands. When Erica didn't walk towards her she wiggled her fingers and lifted her eyebrows, prompting Erica to finally grasp her hands. "Don't let anyone else into this brilliant head of yours. You may have a condition, but that's okay, because it doesn't define you. It's how you react to it that defines you. Okay?"

"That sounded so lame."

"Doesn't make it less true. Besides, I can pull it off can't I?"

Erica rolled her eyes. A second later her lip began to tremble and she sniffed. "I just want to be like everyone else," she admitted.

Melanie smiled. "I know. And this year you can be like everyone else. Because this year is ours to do what we want with it—" she slung her arm around Erica's neck and gave her a squeeze—"And what I want to do with it is have you by my side for every single moment so when we're old and gray we can laugh about all the dumb stuff we went through and the dumb stuff we said as we rock in chairs on the porch and drink purple Kool-Aid."

A content sigh pushed out her nose as she thought of that first day they met, ages ago. Melanie had moved to Beacon Hills with her parents a couple of weeks into the first month of fourth grade, of whom were longtime friends of Erica's mother. Their moms had met at summer camp years ago and stayed in touch ever since so when they moved it wasn't long before the two families met up. A play date had been set up for them by their mothers but they didn't get along right away. Melanie was into Pokémon while Erica was into Barbies. Melanie liked to rattle off on all the scary books she'd read whereas Erica held her interest in Batman comic books. Melanie liked strawberry ice cream, Erica preferred chocolate. Anything and everything had them butting heads. They fought all day long over what they were going to play, when they were going to play it, and who was going to play what part. The one thing that settled them down? Lunch time. A lunch that was accompanied by butterscotch cookies and purple Kool-Aid, what they both quickly found out was their favorite snack. How a friendship formed from there, Melanie still didn't know, but she wouldn't trade Erica for the world. What Melanie lacked Erica filled in the gaps for her. When she needed to slow down and relax, Erica was there. And when Erica needed a confidence boost or a taste of independence, Melanie was always there to provide. They just fit.

"Okay," Erica said, taking Melanie out of her fading thoughts. "Let me just pick...something."

Melanie bounded down the stairs whereas Erica took her time as they headed down to Melanie's waiting truck. They passed through the kitchen where Mrs. Reyes sat, a newspaper folded perfectly next to her plate as she took a sip of steaming black coffee. Her eyes lifted as the girls passed through and wrinkled in the corners when Erica pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek.

"Good luck today, sweetie," Mrs. Reyes said, giving Erica's arm a squeeze. "Everything will be fine."

"Sure, Mom."

"You have my number? In case anything comes up..."

"Yes, Mom."

"And you have Mrs. McCall's—"

"We're going to be late." Erica grabbed a brown lunch bag off the nearby counter-top and followed Melanie out to her truck. Melanie threw her bag in through the open window and climbed unceremoniously into the street. As she started the engine the radio turned on with a blast of sound, making Erica jump. Chuckling, Melanie turned down the guitar solo filtering in through the speakers and then changed the station all together.

"...sheriff's department announced that the other half of a body previously located in the Beacon Hills Preserve, has been found. The body has not been identified at this time. Two joggers had earlier called in a report of finding half a body yesterday afternoon and the police spent the night searching for the other half. Police are working to identify the body of the twenty-year-old girl..."

The volume lowered. Melanie turned to Erica as she removed her hand from the knob. "You don't want to hear more?"

"Not this early. Don't you go jogging out there?"

Melanie nodded and backed out of the driveway. "Sometimes, yeah."

"And you've never seen anything?"

"It's not like a body was just strewn across the road, Eri. Bet whoever killed someone would at least try to hide it."

"How many paths are in there?"

"I dunno. Twenty?" Melanie shrugged. "Those are the official ones anyway." Sometime while on a jog in the preserve she'd go off in any direction she felt like at the moment. Taking the path was boring sometimes. But, no matter how far off the mark she went, she somehow always knew the way to get right back where she stated. She'd never been lost a day in her life due to always being able to find North. If she were a Girl Scout, she'd get some sort of navigation badge.

Erica hummed. "Must be nice being able to go somewhere on your own."

"It's not all that it's cracked up to be, really." Melanie pressed on the brakes at a stop sign. She smiled sheepishly when Erica was flung forward.

"Easy for you to say."

"We're planning on going to the beach this summer, aren't we?"

"Yeah, planning. But Mom'll never let me go."

"Yeah she will. You just have to ask."

"There's no point. I couldn't do anything. I'd have to swim with a buddy or…or be watched using a curling iron or anything else I'm not allowed to do."

"It's five months away. That's enough time to show your mom that you can spend some time away and be fine. When was your last seizure?"

Erica's nose wrinkled. "Four months ago?"

"See? Between now and then I bet you won't have any and then we can cross off everything on your bucket list." Melanie grinned. "This year'll be great. You'll see."

**# # #**

Beacon Hills High School was buzzing by the time the two girls arrived on campus. Shrieks and screams of glee pierced the air every now and then of those that recognized their friends. Groups formed on the grounds as a quick catch-up session went on before first bell. Turning off the truck's engine, Melanie turned around to open the back window and pull her backpack through. She struggled a little when her lacrosse stick got stuck but she managed to wiggle it out and drop it onto her lap.

"So, there's no way I can talk you out of this?" Erica asked, eyeing the newly laced lacrosse stick. "Not even reminding you of the concussion?"

"I wouldn't have gotten a concussion if Stiles could aim for shit," Melanie replied, her eyebrow popping up. It accentuated the scar running near her hairline; she could tell, she'd stared at it long enough in the mirror as he wished she could bash Stiles's head in. The one time he had a decent shot and it busted her head open. Blood dripped down her face and when Stiles wasn't panicking he was throwing up, being no use to Scott who tried to stop the bleeding while trying to keep her seated an also trying to call his mom. It was a clusterfuck of a day. And all she had to show for it was a puffy scar and random throbbing in her forehead if she was particularly stressed. She made a mental note to get him back for that.

"Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Melanie leaned over and kissed Erica's cheek. "You're the best. So, remember, because of tryouts I can't drive you home today."

"I know. I have a doctor's appointment anyway." Erica popped open the passenger side door and got out of the truck. "Good luck finding Scott."

"You don't want to come with me?"

"Uh…"

"Eri, they don't bite. It's just Scott and Stiles."

Erica nodded. "Exactly. See you inside." Slinging her bag over her shoulder she waved at her friend, ducked her head down, and headed into the school at a fast pace.

Melanie sighed, watching Erica walk away. Studied the hunch to her shoulders, the rapid pace of her stride, the strict path of least resistance she navigated each and every morning. If it weren't for that YouTube video she could have the old Erica back. If it weren't for a bunch of jerks. A year had passed since then but it may as well have happened yesterday. Alas, this was the Erica she had now and if that meant that she would have to hold her above the rough sea that's high school then she would.

She would hold on for dear life. Because Erica was worth it.

Heaving her own bag over her shoulder, Melanie's blue eyes scanned the grounds for two familiar faces. Her first attempts at looking around yielded her no results; she mentally cursed for being stuck with genes that kept her from growing past her five-foot-two stature. It was one thing for people to jokingly rest their elbows on her head, it was another when she couldn't see past a sea of people. Hiking her bag up her shoulder, she set forward.

She bobbed and weaved between the incoming students, muttering "excuse me" every now and then as she stepped in and out of people's way. One person, gesturing wildly, made her sidestep and stumble over her own feet. "I meant to do that!" she said, her arms stretched out to the sides to keep her balance. "Totally did that on purpose. It's a new jig!" She continued her strange side-step, dance combination, pulling in confused looks of passersby up until she was forced to stop due to crashing into someone.

"Oops! Sorry, Isaac!" She flashed a smile up at him but he'd already ducked his head and continued on his way. How as it possible that someone as tall as Isaac Lahey could look so small? She didn't give have time to formulate an answer for she finally spotted the two she was looking for and made a beeline for them. If only she had timed her entrance better, that way she didn't have to deal with the secondhand embarrassment of Stiles being rejected by Lydia…again. She grinned. Some things never change.

"You're the cause of this, y'know," Stiles was saying to Scott as Melanie sidled up to them. She rolled her eyes. Even Scott didn't seem to agree with him. As if Scott was the reason that Stiles was overzealous about is never-ending crushing on the one and only Lydia Martin. "Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association."

"You're a nerd because it's embedded in your genes—sorry for you and your future children," Melanie said, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

"Hey Mels," Stiles and Scott greeted her in unison. Stiles, smartly, ignored her jab.

"That's all I get?" she demanded, her once jovial smile of greeting turning upside-down in an instant. Scott's eyebrows furrowed. "'Hey Mels'? How about 'Hey Mels, sorry I forgot to come over last night and help you like I promised. I was a being a big asshole instead'." She twisted her mouth to the side and squinted as the seconds ticked by. Finally, as if a light bulb appeared over his head, he gasped. "Mhm," she hummed.

"Oh, man! I'm sorry! I totally forgot!" Scott gasped. "See, Stiles and I were—"

"—Were just talking about the upcoming lacrosse season," Stiles jumped in, slapping Scott on the shoulder. Melanie's squinting was replaced with a look that was purely incredulous. "Yeah, should be an interesting one. You're going to try out again, I see," he continued, nodding at the stick attached to her backpack. "Very brave of you."

Melanie snorted. "It's very brave of you wouldn't you say?" Reaching out, she pinched Stiles's cheek between her forefinger and thumb and said in a babyish voice, "Wittle Stiles wants to join the big boys this year, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, that's the goal," he replied, slapping her hand away. With a wink he added, "Whether it happens on or off the field first is the question."

"Ew," Melanie uttered, making a face while Stiles smirked. "Didn't need to hear that."

"I'm sorry. I'll try talking over you next time. The words will take longer to reach your ears." He waved his hands over the space above her head, mocking her short stature compared to his.

She blinked, her head tilting in confusion. "Wait…that's possible? That's an actual thing?" she asked.

Stiles's lips parted, an expression appeared on his face as if he had seen it all at that point. Scott chuckled and shook his head. "He was being sarcastic, Mels," he offered up.

"…Oh," Melanie said quietly. She hoped that Stiles would drop the subject—it wasn't the first time she had straight up believed his sarcasm—but of course, this was Stiles, he didn't know when to drop anything that wasn't a lacrosse ball.

Stiles threw his arms into the air. "Really. Really. Still can't quite catch up on that? You're-you're a real genius there, Crowe. S'not like you've had seven years to get used to it. No, not seven long years. Never passed tests along the way. I should get you a translator, in fact. I'm sure Google would back me up on this."

"Shut up, Piles!" Melanie's cheeks burned red and her nostrils flared as Stiles shook his head, rubbing a hand over his short hair. He didn't have to rub it in! It wasn't like they were attached at the hip or anything! And was it bad that she didn't want to believe that anyone would lead her astray? She didn't think so. Frustrated, she had begun to draw her hand back to strike him when Scott pushed through the two of them.

"Okay, settle down." Sighing, he turned to Melanie. "I really am sorry, Mel. Something came up and I forgot. But maybe you didn't need my help. I'm sure you'll be great on your own. You're really good." If she hadn't known them for years she would have carried the argument on but this was Scott McCall. One look in his puppy eyes and anyone would give up any argument in a nanosecond. Seven years later and Melanie still fell for it. Her once embarrassed flush turned to a bright blush at his compliment.

"Thanks," Melanie replied, sounding as confident as she could muster. She bit her lip. As much as she wanted it she knew it would be an uphill battle to be taken seriously. Not just by Coach Finstock but by the other guys on the team as well. Especially Jackson Whittemore. She would have to convince him to take her seriously if she ever wanted a shot at becoming a member of the team. Hell had a better chance of freezing over first. "Hey, did you guys hear about the dead body?"

"We—"

"No, we didn't hear a thing," Stiles said. Scott blinked up at him.

"Nothing?" Melanie's eyebrow rose. "Your father's the sheriff."

"Right. Yep. Yep. That's what he is." Stiles nodded so much he resembled a bobble-head. "Well, y'know, uh…he doesn't exactly share work with me. You know that saying, keep work at work and all that. Gotta keep things separate to run a happy household."

Melanie squinted. "What about that time you got grounded for—"

"That doesn't count."

"What about—

"That doesn't count either."

"And the time—

"None of it counts, Mel, alright? None of it. Just…just forget it."

"…Wait, forget which part? The dead body part or the part where you snoop?"

"All of it!" Stiles's arms flailed as he wiped at the air. "Forget all of it."

Forget it!? How could she just forget that half a body was found? And that Stiles Stilinski of all people didn't want to talk about it? The same guy that tried to convince his dad to let him have a cadaver for show and tell. The same guy that once gave an in-depth report on the stages of decomposition for freshman biology trying to tie it back to the brief anatomy. The same guy that once that once threw a decomposing rat at her when he convinced her and Scott to check out an abandoned warehouse with him? …Okay, that one didn't exactly fit but she wasn't going to let that one go any time soon.

The hair on her arms stood up. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked around for the source of her onset discomfort. She turned towards the school doors only to see Erica staring at her intently. But as she lifted her arm to wave Erica slipped into the double doors. Weird.

The peal of the bell jumpstarted the sluggish students around the school. The three turned and joined the masses as they all herded inside. No matter, she could always talk to him later. It wouldn't be hard; Scott and Stiles weren't exactly the most popular kids in school. In fact, if Lydia's list from last semester was of any indication, they were three spots away from the bottom of the list. Greenberg had the unlucky fortune of holding onto the bottom rung for the third year in a row and Erica sat one step above him.

Melanie sat somewhat comfortably a few spaces above Scott and Stiles. Maybe it was because she once gave Lydia her extra hair tie when Lydia's broke, saving her from some sort of fashion disaster. She didn't know. She and Lydia weren't what people would call the best of friends. The two spoke when they needed to but otherwise kept to themselves. When Lydia soared to the top of the social food chain in middle school Melanie fell behind due to her rapid growing fascination with greek mythology, thus solidifying herself into the Trifecta of Losers, as Jackson called herself, Scott, and Stiles back then. All because they tended to be the last one's picked up for one reason or another. Not that it mattered to her, she was in good company.

"Mels, I really am sorry," Scott said. He pinched the sleeve of her shirt to keep from being separated in the surge of students. "I know I should have called. I just got busy. I wouldn't purposely forget you."

"I know." Melanie tucked her hair behind her ear. "Figured you had a good reason."

"You're not mad at me, right?"

She shook her head, a soft smile curling her lips. "Of course not."

He smiled. "Cool. Good. So…good luck today."

"To you too! Your ass better get on the team. Stiles's too. I don't want to do it without you guys, after all the practicing we've put in."

"No pressure." His lips held a smile of his joke but his eyes remained dull, filling with worry. She patted him on the arm. You got this.

Homeroom was a quick affair, going over their expectations for the rest of their year. Taking the PSAT and preparing to think about where they wanted to go to college if they so choose. A few club announcements were made as well and soon they were shuffled off to their first class of the day. Melanie had English with Stiles and Scott, thankfully. Unfortunately, Erica wasn't in the class with them but having any sort of familiar face was better than nothing.

The class started off with the teacher talking about a dead body being found in the nearby woods, which got the class tittering with questions, of course. Even Melanie's interest was piqued. Things like that didn't just happen around Beacon Hills (okay, maybe it did. Dead bodies were common place but finding half was a whole new can of worms.) Not since the Hale House fire years ago. The shell of a home still sat on wooded land in the area in the city. No one dared to get close, rumor had it that mountain lions took up residence in the home and would let you know if you stepped on their territory. Glancing over her shoulder, Melanie gauged Stiles' and Scott's reactions. They seemed to find the whole thing a joke.

Whatever.

Not long after the announcement the teacher directed their attention to their syllabus. Melanie hummed a tuneless song as she looked over the reading assignments, test dates, and—the most important part—the excuse policies. Melanie had begun to circle that section when the door opened and the Vice Principal entered with a tall girl by his side. Her hand stilled, her eyes drawn to the new girl. Her breath rushed out all at once. The girl, so immaculately dressed with wavy, long dark hair and a hint of a red hue to her cheeks was introduced as Allison Argent and she took the empty seat behind Scott. Again Melanie looked over her shoulder, watching as Allison settled in her seat. Her eyebrows furrowed when Scott turned and gave her a pen.

How odd.

Giving her head a shake, Melanie turned back around to the front. If only she had turned sooner than she could have ignored the look of pure awe in his eye. Like she was the best thing he had ever seen.

After a boring lecture about Kafka's Metamorphosis, the bell rang signaling the end of that class and the start of the five minute break to get to their next one. And so that class morphed into the next which melted into the next. Only Melanie wasn't paying that close attention to the day. She didn't need to, anything she missed Erica could fill her in on later. Besides, the closer to lacrosse practice it got the more anxious she became. By the time the last bell of the day rang she bolted out of her seat as if she had been electrocuted.

Melanie left the room and made a beeline for her locker to swap out her books. Yanking open her locker door, she tossed her books in, making sure not to disturb the digital camera sitting on the top shelf. She closed her locker door—and jumped in startled fright when she saw she wasn't alone.

"Geeze—warn a girl!" she said as Allison lifted her head to look at her. "You're so damn quiet! Like a ninja."

"Thanks…I think," Allison said, slowly closing her locker door. She hiked her bag up her arm and adjusted the scarf around her neck. A moment later she squeezed her eyes shut and laughed; dimples popped in her cheeks. "Sorry, I keep forgetting this part. I'm-I'm Allison."

"I know," Melanie replied. Allison blinked. "You got introduced at the start of English class. Kinda can't miss a name that's an alliteration."

"Oh. Right, right. I forgot. Obviously. Sorry."

Leaning her shoulder against her locker door, Melanie glanced at Allison's outfit—of course it would look good on her—and then looked up at Allison's half-smile. All at once the strange and foreboding tension that had fallen upon her went away. She remembered how hard it was being the new kid. Starting over in high school had to be ten times worse. Smiling, she straightened up while extending her hand. "Hi! I'm Melanie."

Though it didn't seem as if Allison had heard her because her head was turned and she was smiling at something. Melanie tilted her head and searched for the object of Allison's attention. Her breath momentarily caught in her chest. Scott McCall. Her eyes bounced between the two like ping pong balls and she swallowed. Well, no sense in standing around. Clearing her throat and shifting her weight, she had begun to move out of the way when Lydia Martin herself approached.

"That jacket is totally killer," she told Allison, one leg popping at the knee to shift her to a comfortable stance. "Where'd you get it?" Melanie wanted to wave her hand in Lydia's face and ask if she were invisible but there was no point. She already knew the answer and she didn't need Lydia of all people reminding her.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," Allison replied.

Of course. The scathing thought shot through her mind before she could stop it. A moment later heat settled into her cheeks, causing her to look down at her own feet in shame.

"And you are my new best friend," Lydia said in approval. Probably just because of the jacket and fashion opportunities. Damn, what was wrong with her today? Her lips formed a line. Maybe Lydia was rubbing off on her. Right when Melanie was about to walk away she found her path blocked by Jackson. Her eyes jumped up to the ceiling when the two leaned in for a kiss. Her muscles twitched with her suppressed urge to shove her way through them but the she would start the semester off on the wrong foot with him and, unfortunately, she needed him on her side. It was a uphill battle but one she was willing to fight. Even if it meant avoiding his elbow.

"So, this weekend, there's a party," Lydia continued once she peeled her lips away from Jackson.

"A party?" Allison repeated.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah - Friday night." He stretched out his arm and rested it on the locker above Melanie's head, still ignoring her. She wondered if she tickled him in the armpit if he would notice it. "You should come."

"Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday," Allison declined, "Thanks for asking."

But Jackson pressed, "You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?"

Jackson laughed. "Football's a joke in Beacon Hills. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the past three years."

Melanie's face twisted into an expression of disgust as Lydia ran her fingers though his hair all but cooed, "Because of a certain team captain." Gag me with a spoon.

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes," Jackson continued, "That is, if you don't have anywhere else—"

" Well, I was going to—" Allison started.

"Perfect - You're coming," Lydia interrupted, grabbing Allison's hand and dragged her behind them, leaving Melanie behind. She threw one arm into the air and shook her head in disbelief. But that annoyance didn't last long as she looked down at the envelope in her jacket pocket. Because in a few short minutes she was going to be trying out for Beacon Hill's lacrosse team too. She grinned and hurried along, rushing to catch up to Stiles and Scott.

She couldn't wait to see the look on Jackson's face.

**# # #**

"What in the world do you think you're doing on my field, Crowe?" Coach Finstock's loud, grating voice jarred Melanie out of the focus that she had built up as she adjusted the pads on her shoulders. Whirling around, she caught a glimpse of the strained look on Erica's face bleachers for support. It was quickly overshadowed by the thundering expression on Coach's face being shoved into her vision as he towered over her.

She didn't take into consideration the look on Coach's face. It wasn't pretty.

Her body shook beneath his imposing stance but she managed to lift her chin and did her best to keep the nerves out of her voice. "T-Trying out for lacrosse," she replied beneath his stern gaze. "Sir," she added for good measure.

"I thought I told you last year that I would have no girls on my team!" His voice carried so far across the field that everyone stopped to see why he was yelling. Melanie's skin burned, whether that was from everyone looking at her or from the fact that a grown man was yelling at her she couldn't differentiate.

She had a fight ready that morning when she was all fired up over Scott forgetting to meet her. It was nice and articulate and to the point but now, beneath his gaze, words failed her. So, gulping, she reached a hand into her helmet and withdrew the letter. The paper shook and wavered in her unsteady palm as she handed it over.

"Th-the p-principal says you c-can't stop me from t-trying out," Melanie stuttered as Coach snatched it out of her hands. "H-he says there is n-no rule that a g-girl can't try out for the team." His eyes cut to her as she spoke and she squeaked out a timid "Sir" at the end.

"Coach! I'm not going to have some…some girl ruin my chances of another championship just because she wants to stretch out her dyke legs," Jackson spat, storming off the field.

Coach didn't respond right away. His face was hidden by the paper in his hands. Melanie looked over his shoulder to see Stiles and Scott approaching with their own gear. Her eyes then swiveled over to Erica whose eyebrows were furrowed together and a look of concern was etched across her features, making her angry acne turn a little bit redder. Melanie made a mental note to find a better cover up for her.

"Coach!" Jackson barked.

"Just let her try, Coach." For a minute Melanie didn't know who the incoming voice belong to. She searched a couple of faces on the bench—they turned away from her as if they didn't want to be involved—and then she finally found one person who stared back at her. Isaac Lahey. She hadn't even noticed he was on the field, let alone knew that he could speak. Imagine that.

Turning back to Coach, she noticed that he was staring at her. His jaw clenched so hard she was sure she would hear it snap in different places. Tension in the air pressed down on her shoulders and wrapped around her throat, slowly constricting. She began to hum, an involuntary sound that she seemed to produce whenever she was in a stressful situation. And getting stared down by Coach Finstock was the definition of stressful.

"—Fine!" he hissed, throwing the paper back in her face. "Suit up and get in line." Gasping in surprise, Melanie started to turn away to do as she was told only to let out a yelp with Coach grabbed onto her ponytail to stop her. "Only don't go crying when you break a nail, got it?"

"Got it," she replied, grimacing underneath the pressure being placed on her scalp. Coach let go of her hair and turned his attention to his newest victim, Scott.

Sighing, Melanie turned back to her equipment when she felt another hand on her hair. "Ow! Okay, can we not do that?" she asked, this time coming face to face with Jackson.

"What, are you on your period or something?" he hissed.

"Uh…no. Not for another…week and three days," she quickly calculated.

For a second Jackson's eyebrows furrowed, his eyelids squinted, and a look of disgust appeared on his ace. But it disappeared a moment later as the fire in his eye ignited once more. "Shut up, dumbass. If you want to be stupid enough to try out, you go right ahead. But I will not let you ruin our championships chances just because you got the idea that you can throw your tits aside and play. This is a sport, not some baking competition, get it?"

"What does baking—?" she started but Jackson's grip tightened on her hair which silenced her words. Breathing harshly, he lowered his head until his mouth was next to her ear.

"I'm only going to say this once: I don't care that you're a girl. If you're in my way, I'll take you out of it. Got it?"

Melanie turned her head, looked him in the eye, and said as steadily as possible, "You'll have to catch me first."

He expelled a harsh breath through his nose and stomped off. Rubbing the back of her head, Melanie went to grab for her gear again. The sound of footsteps on metal made her look up to see Erica rushing down to her.

"Don't," Melanie said, stopping Erica before she could open her mouth. "I can handle it, Eri."

"They can't just put their hands on you like that," Erica hissed, lowering her voice.

"It's-it's fine," Melanie replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. "I can handle it, really. I just want to show them what I can do."

"Yeah, but it starts here and ends where? With you in the hospital?" Erica demanded. "Mellie, be reasonable."

"I am," Melanie replied. "I'm out here showing everyone that a girl can do as well as if not better than a guy. I've wanted to play lacrosse for Beacon Hills High for a long time. You know this." She paused. "I want this, Erica. I really do. Why are you stopping me?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," Erica replied, briefly grabbing at her wild hair. Their efforts at taming it that morning didn't seem to hold. "You're the only friend I have. I can't get through this without you."

Melanie clapped her on her shoulder with her glove. "I'm not going anywhere, Erica. I will always be here for you, no matter what."

"Promise?" Erica held up her pinky. Melanie took off her glove, locked their pinkies together, and nodded.

"Promise."

"Crowe! This isn't a tea party!" Coach yelled. "Get in line!"

Melanie widened her eyes and sighed. Erica smiled a small smile and went back to the bleachers, sitting at the far end away from Allison and Lydia who had just showed up and sat down. Melanie shook her head and put on her helmet. As she locked it beneath her chin and peered out between the bars on her cage she locked eyes with Isaac. He was the first to tear his eyes away, grabbing his stick and got in line. Shaking out her nerves as best as she could, she grabbed her stick and joined the back of the line only to lean past everyone to see Scott in goal.

The whistle sounded and soon they were throwing balls in Scott's direction. The first one smacked hi on the helmet, knocking him over, causing a groan and a few laughs to pepper trough the spectators. Melanie bit her lip, silently urging Scott to get up. Thankfully he did and he seemed okay.

Or, more than okay if the next throw was of any indication. He caught the ball easily, almost as if he knew where it was going before it was thrown. She wasn't the only one surprised. She could see Scott's smile from all the way at the half line. Even Coach was gobsmacked. Scott wasn't the best player on the team but suddenly he could catch? He had been second line last year for a reason…right?

Another player took a shot. Scott caught that too, almost with little effort. On the sidelines Stiles let out a high pitched cheer of astonishment. Shot after shot Scott caught, his net being in the right place at the right time. More students trickled out to the fields to see what was going on and what the cheering was about.

Finally it was Melanie's turn. She bounced up and down on her toes to get herself pumped up. She flashed a thumbs up sign to Erica, fixed her grip on her lacrosse stick, and stepped forward…

…only to have Jackson slap his lacrosse stick across hers, keeping her back. She opened her mouth to protest but he glared at her. It was enough to keep her rooted to the spot as he growled under his breath, ready to take Scott on. Seeing that look in his eye, she felt bad for him. She wouldn't want to go up against him when he looked that crazy.

Jackson charged the goal and took a shot…only for Scott to catch that one too.

"Yeah! Go Scott!" Melanie cheered along with others on the sidelines. Jackson shot her a withering glare and then turned his stare over to Lydia in the stands who held his gaze.

Amidst Stiles cheers of "that's my best friend!" and the applause on the sidelines Melanie yanked off her helmet and squinted across the field. As much as she was impressed by his display one nagging thought shot through her mind:

How did Scott McCall suddenly get so good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have this on FFN but I've had such good feedback on some of my other work on here that I figured I'd put this on here as well.
> 
> Back in 2014, this was my first foray into the Teen Wolf fandom. I started later than most but I got addicted and watched up to season 4 during one summer and this idea came to mind. Erica was a character I loved right away and as I watched the show I wished she had a supportive friend thrown into the mix so that's how this story started and snowballed from there. I need more supportive female relationships in my fanfic-reading life.
> 
> While _Underneath it All_ follows the events of the show starting from episode one, there will be deviations from it to go along with what I have planned for this story. That means it's not a straight up rewrite with an OC thrown in, she has her own plot and things going on around the basis of the show that I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of it so far, especially with my character. Constructive criticism is welcomed.
> 
> You can also find me on **tumblr** , **twitter** , and **FFN** under the name CeruleanMusings. Feel free to send me a message if you have any questions or just would like to talk! 
> 
> ~Musings


	2. Don't Believe the Myth

Chapter 2: Don't Believe the Myth

"So what happened after I left? Were you able to get a chance to show off your skills?" Erica's question seemed to overtake all sound in Melanie's room due to her putting her phone on speaker. She didn't want to keep her head tilted while she practiced her stick handling and end up with a crick in her neck. Coach was looking for any excuse to make sure she wasn't on the team. Not that he needed to do that by himself, Jackson seemed to have the same plan in mind.

"Not really," Melanie replied, twisting her stick in her grip as she paced. "Coach kept Scott in goal for the most part and Jackson wouldn't let anyone else take him on until he got a shot in. By the time that happened we only had fifteen minutes left which were reserved for conditioning." Her lungs still ached from the sprints they were ordered to do. The hot bath she took once she got home felt like heaven on her overworked muscles.

"Aww, that sucks. But you have another practice tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. We figure out if we're first string or not. If we don't make it we're benched for the rest of the season and don't play." Melanie sighed. "I have to make the team, Eri, I just have to. If I don't I'll die."

Erica's laugh filled the air. "Didn't you say the same thing about seeing Simple Plan in concert?"

"And look who's still alive," Melanie pointed out, causing the two girls to burst into laughter. Once it subsided, Melanie dropped her stick onto her bed and sat down in her computer chair. Pulling her phone closer to her laptop, she began clicking around on the open tabs. "Can you believe how amazing Scott was today?"

"He did so well. It's strange, he wasn't this good last year," Erica commented.

"Yeah. What in the world made him better in one day? D'you think he was bitten by some radioactive spider?"

"Well, we haven't seen giant spider webs in town so I think that can be ruled out." The phone crackled as she sighed. "Maybe he just improved."

"Overnight?" Melanie's eyebrow lifted to reflect the incredulous tone attached to her words. "While Stiles is still hopeless?"

"Well, you're asking the wrong girl. I don't know much about sports."

"Fair point. Hey, did you hear anything else about that dead body in the woods?"

"No, I haven't heard a thing. I don't think I want to either."

Melanie ignored her statement as she continued speaking. "So I was trying to figure out what it could be that would have attacked and killed that person. I mean, it was split in half. And what kind of animal out here would do that?"

"Melanie," Erica started.

"I looked some stuff up and then I realized—duh!—it's freaking obvious what it was!"

"Mel."

"It was a wendigo! It had to be a wendigo. Do you knwo what that is? See, a wendigo is a demonic half-beast that can possess characteristics of a human or a monster that had transformed from a person. And you want to know what they're known for? Cannibalism. Yeah! Cannibalism! Can you believe that? It has this emaciated frame, thin skin, and no lips because, supposedly, they eat them. They eat their own lips! Sick, huh? Anyway, I was thinking—"

"Melanie!" Erica shouted, successfully stopping her friend's stream of information. "For one thing, that's disgusting and I think you've been reading too many mythology books. For another, I don't think that a…windigo?...is an actual thing, let alone something that attacked someone in the woods. And for another, did you ever talk to Stiles?"

Melanie sucked in a breath, her nose wrinkling simultaneously. She had spoken to Stiles throughout the day…just not about what she wanted her to talk to him about. But, in her defense, it was hard to bring the subject up because Scott was either talking about Allison or Stiles was talking about Lydia. Having one obsessed boy on her hands was one thing but having them both? That was another. It was enough to make her want to stab her eardrums with sharpened pencils. They'd had crushes before, this wasn't new, but then again they weren't so obsessed with their past crushes either. This was a whole new ballgame. Hormones suck.

"Sorry, I never got a chance to bring it up. But, I mean, this is Stiles we're talking about. It's a very safe bet that he doesn't have a girlfriend," she reasoned, leaning back in her chair. At the sound of a knock on her door she tilted her head back all the way to see who it was that was standing in her doorway.

"Dinner's ready," her father, Laurence, said.

"Alright, I'll be right there. I'm just talking to Erica," Melanie replied, lifting her head so she was sitting up straight. She blinked; her hands held up in midair, and then grasped her head. "Whoa, head rush. Anyway, Eri, I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Or…y'know, you could talk to him yourself?"

"No way," Erica replied almost immediately. Melanie huffed. Erica had known Stiles and Scott longer than Melanie has and yet she had hardly said ten words to them in the past few years alone. Her crush on Stiles couldn't be that debilitating could it? After all, if she could still look Scott in the eye and have a normal conversation with him despite—

Moving on.

"Eri, they're cool guys. I mean, the rest of the school may not think so but they're fun to spend time with. And just once I want to have lunch with all of you instead of having to pick and choose."

Erica sighed. For a while she didn't say anything in response. Melanie even had to check her phone to be sure that she was still on the line and they hadn't been disconnected. "It's just…too complicated." Melanie pressed her lips together. Complicated was code for she didn't feel comfortable enough with herself to want to put herself out there and sit with them. And it bugged her. Here she thought Erica was one of the coolest people in the world but that meant nothing if she didn't believe it herself. "I don't get why you even want to be seen with me sometimes."

"Because I don't give a shit what others think, the only opinion I care about is yours," Melanie replied almost automatically. "And the only one you should care about is mine and I think you're fucking awesome." She held up her finger when her father cleared her throat. "Look, I have to go eat. But after dinner maybe you could help me with Chemistry 'cause none of this is making sense to me."

"Sure. Once you get the formulas it's pretty easy."

"Says the girl who's held a 3.8 GPA since middle school."

"Well, when you have no one else to hang out with studying becomes something to do to fill time."

Ignoring her comment Melanie bid her goodbye and jabbed her phone screen to hang up the phone. Spinning around in her chair, she faced the door and stood. Stretching her arms above her head, she staggered forward and leaned into her father's side as he wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Good day?" he asked, rubbing her back as they went downstairs. The scent of cooked dinner wafted up the stairs and met them halfway. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered as she inhaled the smells.

"Yeah, I guess," Melanie replied. The two entered the kitchen right as her mother, Arabella, took her seat that the small round table. She and Laurence sat down in their respectful places, bowed their heads for a quick grace, and began passing around dishes to serve helpings on their plates. "As good as the first day back can be," she said, continuing the conversation. "Coach Finstock is letting me try out for the team, though, so that's good."

"This late in the season?" her mother asked, pausing with her fork to her mouth.

"Well, it would have been earlier if I didn't have that concussion," Melanie explained, licking cheese sauce off her thumb. "It wasn't even that bad but Coach didn't want to risk it, so he says. Anyway, because the principal is on my side I can try out. Didn't get much in today, though. Somehow Scott got crazy good and so Jackson's ego was bruised and he wouldn't let anyone else go against him. But tomorrow we play for first line so hopefully I'll have my chance then. Cross your fingers."

"Jackson," Arabella said slowly. "That Whittemore boy? The one that's a bit…overzealous?" The worry in her tone wasn't lost on Melanie. It didn't help that her eyebrows were knitted together to the point that it made her worry lines deepen.

"He's focused," Melanie corrected her. Focused to the point of wanting to annihilate anything in his path. "But if I'm going to be on the team I'll have to beat the best, and that's him." She shoved macaroni into her mouth to avoid having to answer any question that her mother may ask next. After all, it was rude to talk with her mouth full.

"Sweetie, maybe you should rethink this," Arabella said. She picked up her glass of red wine and took a sip. The glass came away clean, free of her red lipstick. "You could get hurt. You're smaller than those boys."

"She can use that to her advantage," her father jumped in. He paused to cut a piece of steak and placed it in his mouth. "She's lower to the ground for a better center of gravity and she could be quicker than some of the boys."

"Yes, but what I am saying is that they may not take it kindly that a girl is on the team."

"So long as she proves her worth it shouldn't matter."

"Laurence, you're not hearing me."

"I'm hearing you fine, honey."

"Okay, we don't even know if I've made the team yet. No sense in worrying about the 'what ifs', right?" Melanie jumped in, trying to change the subject to a better topic. The tension settled upon them like a sudden rain storm. She could almost see gray clouds growing above their heads.

"What if she makes it on the team, what then?" Arabella demanded, clutching her wine glass in her hand. Her knuckles began to turn white.

"Then she plays," Laurence replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"And it's that easy?"

"Yes."

"No. What if she gets hazed? What if she gets teased? What if she gets bullied?"

"Look, I can handle whatever the guys throw my way," Melanie tried to speak up. "I have Scott and Stiles there and—"

"Honey, please," Arabella interrupted her. She finally set down her wine glass and crossed her arms over her chest. Her bright blue eyes bore into her husband as she broke her usually proper posture to slump in her seat. "Your father and I are having a discussion."

"I know. About me. And since I'm the subject I would like to think that I get a say in it," Melanie continued. "Let's just have dinner."

But she could already tell that her pleas were falling on deaf ears. That hard look appeared in their eyes, which meant they weren't going to give up anytime soon. Which only meant that one or both of them was going to go to bed angry. Another normal night at the Crowe house.

Melanie slumped in her chair and picked at her food, having lost her appetite. Their arguments had become a bit more frequent, she couldn't help but notice. It started out as the odd argument here and there as the holidays drew near. She had attributed it to stress since their arguments stopped around Christmas and New Years. But as soon as the date changed to January 2nd the petty fights started up again. A dish wasn't dried completely. Shoes were left by the front door. A silverware drawer had been left open. And would it kill them to remember to close the cabinet door?

"I just don't want her to get hurt, Laurence," Arabella continued.

"And you think I do?"

"I didn't say that!"

Heaving a sigh, Melanie pushed back against the small table. Her chair scraped against the floor at the effort. She thought that, of all things, would stop them from fighting but it was as if they hadn't heard a sound. Figures. Abandoning her food, she took the stairs two at a time and went back to her room. Dropping down in her chair, she whirled around and woke up her computer screen right as she got a skype call.

"You have amazing timing," she relayed to Erica.

"I was taking a chance that you were back by now. You eat fast," she replied. She was lying down on her bed, clad in her sweats. Her legs kicked through the air as she flipped through the pages in a textbook.

"Actually, I barely ate. Couldn't get anything down with the atmosphere down there," Melanie relayed, slumping in her seat.

Erica paused, a highlighter hanging out of the corner of her mouth. "They're fighting again?"

Melanie rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Yep, over lacrosse this time. Mom's worried I'll get hurt. I mean, I don't blame her but…I was hoping she'd give some support."

"You're her only kid, it's understandable." Erica paused and then a sly smile appeared on her face. "Hey, take a look under your pillow."

"Why? Did you put Alex Pettyfer there?" Melanie joked as she pulled out the plug so she could move to her bed. She pried her shoes off her feet by stepping on the heels and then rested against the mountain of pillows that lay against the headboard. Once she was comfortable she stuck her hand beneath the pillows and felt something crinkle. Eyebrows furrowed, she pulled it out and then grinned at Erica's enthusiastic "tah dah!"

"Erica! When did you do this?" Melanie asked, laughing in glee as she dug her hand into the bag of mini Snickers that now lay on her keyboard.

"I asked my mom to stop by after my appointment," she replied. She propped her cheek upon her palm; her blond hair cascaded to one side. "I didn't anticipate your parents' fighting but I thought it would come in handy after your practice today."

"See, this is why I love you and we'll be married one day. Mark my words. Who needs boys when I have you?" Melanie tugged the wrapping paper off the candy and bit it in half. "And we'll have it on the beach with a bonfire reception like we've always wanted. Remember? With fireworks and sparklers and mason jars to catch fireflies."

"And twinkly lights?" Erica asked.

"Yeah," Melanie replied, getting comfortable against the pillows. "And twinkly lights."

****

**# # #**

The next morning roused Melanie bright and early due to the sounds of the kitchen door slamming shut, Arabella on her way to open up the town's local flower shop, of which Melanie helped out sometimes, and Laurence on his way to the town's motorcycle dealership.

They made a weird pair at face value. Laurence a tall, handsome, muscular man with a stubble-covered chin, heavy eyebrows and dark eyes appeared intimidating at first glance. It probably didn't help that some nights he took to teaching MMA fighting style to those willing to learn. As compared to Arabella, a graceful, thin thing who always knew what to wear, what to say, and what to do. A hair was never out of place on her head, her makeup was always on point, and she had an air about her so peaceful that anyone speaking to them became conflicted on how to react. Melanie swore she modeled once at one point but her mother always shot down her claims.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she brushed crud away and yawned. After an all night study marathon with Erica over Chemistry, History, and Economics—the trifecta of horrors—she wasn't particularly excited to have to go over it again in school of all places. But it was another day for her to try and show Coach Finstock she knew what she was doing and that was her only motivation for getting up.

Pushing aside her laptop, which was still open to a tab about super humans, she grabbed her clothes and jumped in the shower. She turned up the volume on her water-proof radio and sung along to the current Top 40 hits that played one right after another. Some people thought in the shower, she held a concert in the shower along, shampoo bottle microphone and all.

After two encores, she finally stepped out of the shower and dried off. She dried her hair, brushed her teeth, and jumped into her clothes once she noticed the time on the clock on the wall. She was going to be late picking up Erica. Leave it to the girl still not having her license. Mrs. Reyes claimed it was because she wasn't ready for it but they both knew why: she didn't want to risk Erica having a seizure behind the wheel.

If she were to be honest with herself, Melanie was worried about that as well. She was used to Erica's random seizures by now. Hell, with the whole YouTube video fiasco she was the only one who knew not to put anything in her mouth because she could break her teeth. In fact, Melanie was sure that Erica biting through her tongue was a better risk than breaking her teeth.

The first time she had seen Erica have a seizure was when they had just started middle school and were having a sleepover to celebrate getting through the first week. There they were, sitting on Melanie bed, eating candy and playing computer games when she noticed that something was off with Erica.

Erica sat against her headboard but she wasn't moving. Her eyes rolled in her head and when they weren't she stared off into the distance. Melanie screamed for her parents and they came charging in in a flurry. It wasn't long after that she had learned that Erica was epileptic and that she had been skipping some of her medication.

"I just wanted to be normal," she said when Melanie asked her about it the next day. "I wanted to be like everyone else." Thankfully it was only a petit mal seizure and not a grand mal seizure that Erica had experienced. Ever since that day Melanie made sure to check on Erica's medication routine, acting like a second mother in that respect, all the while making it her mission to help Erica realize that she was like everyone else and she was normal and, no, she wasn't fat. Middle School was a trying time on its own, Erica didn't deserve the extra pressure. But hey, teens were cruel, what could they do?

Grabbing her backpack and lacrosse stick, Melanie shoved her phone into her pocket and raced down the stairs. She ran into the kitchen to grab an apple and then ran out the door to her truck…only to run back and lock the door she had forgotten about and then jump inside.

Throwing her bag and stick to the back, she slammed the door shut and turned the keys in the ignition. Her truck roared to life. Shifting the car into the reverse, she jammed her foot against the gas pedal and shot backwards out of the driveway. It was a good thing she looked in the rearview mirror as she went for, in the last second, something popped into her view.

"Shit!" she yelled, stomping on the brakes. With a loud squeak her truck stopped. Heart beating hard in her chest, she put the vehicle into park and shakily got out. Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, she slowly walked to the back of the car to see what it was that had made her stop. Right behind her back left tire was a trembling, brown and black ball. Crouching, Melanie got closer to get a better look. "Hey, it's okay," she cooed to the little thing. "It's okay. You can come out now."

As she reached her hands forward she saw that the little ball had four feet, a tail, and big brown eyes. It was a German Shepherd puppy. She gently wrapped her arms around the puppy's torso and held him close to her chest. Its small body continued to tremble in her arms as she went back to her truck. His neck was free of a collar so there weren't any tags to check. She frowned, setting him in the passenger seat. She would just take a little detour to the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic and then get on her way to school; just to be sure it was alright.

**# # #**

"Oh, so that's why you were so late this morning," Erica mused aloud as she leaned against the locker right by Melanie's as she pulled books out of her backpack. It was the middle of the day and the first time Melanie really had a chance to explain what had gone on that morning. After dropping the puppy off with Dr. Deaton she had raced to get Erica and drove them to school as fast as she could to make sure they made it in before first bell. Thankfully, they had, even with the dance party they had in the car on the way over. But it hadn't given them enough time to talk before classes started. "I hope the puppy's okay."

"Well, I didn't run it over so I think it's a safe bet that it's fine," Melanie replied. "Although Dr. Deaton said he's going to call me later and then put up lost dog signs." She shoved her stick into her locker and started pulling out more books. "It had no tags so my guess is that it was recently purchased for someone."

"Or abandoned," Erica said quietly.

Melanie paused, a sick feeling twisting in her stomach at the mere idea. "Or that," she agreed. "But if it's not claimed in a certain amount of time he said I can keep it. I've always wanted a dog."

"Yeah, but will your mom let you have one?" Erica asked.

Melanie shrugged. "I can get my dad to convince her. That can't be too hard." Deep inside of her she scoffed. Who was she kidding? Trying to convince her mother would probably end up in another fight but she was sure once her mother saw the little dog's face she would be won over immediately. She already was checked her phone every five minutes. In fact, she instinctively looked down again.

"Waiting for something?" Melanie lifted her head as Allison approached her locker. Erica muttered something and moved out of her way. Allison's eyebrows lifted as she opened her locker door, waiting for Melanie to answer.

"Oh. Uhm, yeah. Just a phone call is all," she replied, shoving her phone into her pocket. "S'not all that important."

Smiling gently, Allison closed her locker door and replaced the lock. "They're all important when it comes to girls, right?"

Before Melanie could answer the bell rang. Students milling by their lockers were now on the move. "I got French now so I'll catch you later, Eri," she told Erica.

"At lunch?" she asked. "It's pizza day."

"Definitely!" Melanie replied, her eyes lighting up at the news. "You get the pizza, I'll save a table."

"Deal." The two high fived and Erica rushed off to her class.

Melanie turned around to get to her class only to jump and flinch when she noticed Allison still standing there. "Geeze!" she cried out, her hand jumping to he chest. Her heart beat hard beneath her skin. She sighed. "A ninja, I'm telling you."

"Sorry," Allison said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's just…you said you had French now. And I have that class too. I figured we could…walk together."

Melanie had to stop her nose from wrinkling. Something about the new girl was off to her, rubbed her the wrong way, but then she sighed. She knew what it was like to be the new kid and being a new kid in high school wasn't easy. Even if she did have Lydia Martin on her side. So, pushing aside her fleeting initial annoyance, she nodded, signaling them forward. "You have Ms. Morrell, right?" she asked. Allison nodded. "Good. She's the best French teacher in the world. You got lucky."

"Oh? Well that's good," Allison said. "I haven't been taking French long. I still get some of the conjugations wrong." Melanie's eyebrows furrowed. Her last name was a French one if she wasn't mistaken, so how couldn't she…? Then she mentally slapped herself. Just because she may possibly be of French origin doesn't mean she actually knows the language, dummy. Melanie was pulled out of her thoughts when Allison cleared her throat. "How long have you been taking French?"

"Me? Oh just since middle school," Melanie replied with a wave of her hand. Her father slipped into his native tongue every now and then around the house. He'd whisper words here and there for her mother to hear, something that would make her blush and giggle and shoot sly smiles his way. Other times it'd randomly come out to further voice his dismay or surprise at what came his way. It always put a smile on her face when her father would exclaim "zut alors!" if he banged his head or dropped something. Thus, when middle school came around, she took it upon herself to take the class. It would have been easier if her father had just taught her the language from the get-go but he said he didn't want to impose on her. "It's not that hard of a language, I don't think. You just have to remember everything is masculine or feminine."

That made Allison chuckle. "I always found that a bit silly, giving objects genders."

Melanie couldn't help but laugh as well. It was a funny thought. "Yeah, how are we supposed to tell if an apple is a boy or a girl anyway?"

Changing her voice to a stage whisper Allison said, "By the length of their stem. But they don't want us checking for that. Modesty and all."

"And yet they have no problem with us biting their skin off."

"Ugh, that's gross thinking of it that way."

"Hey, you brought it up."

By the time the two girls reached the classroom their cheeks were bright red from laughing so hard. They slipped in just before Ms. Morrell closed the door and they took the two remaining seats left in front of Isaac. Allison chose the furthest one away leaving Melanie to sit in front of him. She lifted her chin in acknowledgement of him in a very sporty manner. All he did was blink in response. Okay, whatever. Melanie sat down and got out her notebook.

"So," Allison whispered, turning around. Melanie lifted an eyebrow. But Allison paused and played with one of the bent spirals on her notebook, her eyes downcast. Finally she sighed, looked up at Melanie and said, "I hear you're friends with Scott?"

"And Stiles," Melanie replied. "Kinda," she added. "We're not best friends, not like those two are, but we are decent friends. Good friends, I guess." Her nose wrinkled. It was weird trying to decipher what they were. While she didn't eat with them every day and didn't hang out with them as much as she did Erica she did consider them her close friends. That was good enough. Then her eyes narrowed as she remembered the way Scott and Allison looked at each other the day before. Her muscles tensed in preparation. "Why?" She hoped she didn't sound as suspicious as she felt.

"Oh, I just—"

But Allison couldn't finish for Ms. Morrell started clapping her hands, asking them for their attention. Once she had it she stood at the front of the room and leaned on her desk. "Okay, class. As we've been covering so far, we are going to continue to learn about travel and geography in this semester. So what better way to start off than with a project?" That earned groans from the class of which she brushed off. "It won't be long. All you are going to do is research a country in Europe and explain why you would like to visit as well as give a few facts about the culture. The catch is, you have to give the presentation in French. You will split into groups of two."

At this Allison turned around and widened her eyes, silently asking for Melanie to be her partner. She hesitated and licked her lips. Ms. Morrell clapped her hands again to get everyone's attention. "The groups have already been picked out and the countries have already been assigned. Please, make your way to the library. The rest of the class will be dedicated to beginning your research."

Collecting her books, Melanie followed the masses to the library. While in the hall she lifted the headphones that had been resting around her neck and placed them over her ears. Ms. Morrell usually didn't mind if they listened to music while they worked so long as their duties were divided up in a way that both partners had a chance to get equal work done.

Once entering the library Melanie was told that she was assigned Greece which excited her. She had always been into Greek Mythology. Skipping off to the world travel section and singing along to the song playing beneath her breath, she dragged her fingers along some of the book spines until she found a few books that grabbed her attention. She even got a few mythology books for good measure, and so she could read them while under the guise of actually working.

Now dancing due to the pop music that flowed through her ears, she carried her books back to the table she had chosen. Setting them down, she turned to her backpack and began to dig her for her notebook. Once she pulled it out she finally let gravity take her down to sit in a chair…

…only to sit on someone's lap instead.

"Holy shit!" she shrieked in surprised, jumping up. In her haste to back away, the backs of her knees hit the other chair behind her and she fell end over end onto the floor in a heap. She popped back onto her feet in a second, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as she looked around. Sure enough, she had everyone's attention. Throwing her arms into the air she cheered "and she sticks the landing!" earning a few laughs. Setting her chair upright she sat down and then rubbed her face in her hands. Only when the overwhelming feeling of being watched got to her she spread her fingers and looked through them to see that it was Isaac, of all people, was sitting next to her and looking at her. "Sorry!" she squeaked, dropping her hands. "I-I didn't see you there. You were so quiet. I didn't even…and I sat on you! Oh god, I'm so sorry!"

"It's-it's okay," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "You probably couldn't hear because of the…" he pointed to his ears.

What? Melanie reached her hands up and then smacked herself in the forehead with her palm. She had completely forgotten she was wearing headphones. She slowly took them off her ears and hung them around her neck. Silence stretched out between them. Melanie began to hum. Then, for something to do, she grabbed the books she had dropped onto the table and pulled them towards her.

"So! Greece! We got a good one, eh?" she asked, trying to make conversation as she flipped through the pages. "I thought we could talk about some mythology, if that's alright with you. Maybe act something out?" At the way his eyes widened and the expression of horror on his face she quickly backtracked. "Okay! No acting. I get it. But maybe we can choose one story and stick with that? Like…." she flipped pages so rapidly that, unsurprisingly to her, she got a papercut. "Ouch," she muttered, turning her thumb over to look at the cut. It wasn't too bad but it stung.

"Y-you okay?" Isaac asked, looking over at her.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. A papercut's not gonna stop me. I have a practice to dominate after all." If I ever get a chance to get on the field today, that is. Licking her thumb again, she turned a few more pages and then stopped on a picture of a naked bird-like woman. Her body was all woman but she had wings growing out of her back and she was sitting on rocks, beckoning to a boat. Melanie's eye swiveled over to the large words on the other page that announced what that chapter was about: Sirens. She moved to turn the page but the particular sensation of being watched made her take pause. She looked up, finding Isaac staring at her. "What?"

"It's just…you're still trying out?" he asked. He played with a pen in his hands. "For lacrosse, I mean?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied sternly. "Is that a problem?" She wondered how long it would take for him to join the masses of the team. Did Jackson get to him too?

Isaac shook his head. "No. I don't. I'm just checking." He fell silent. Thinking the conversation was over, Melanie grabbed her notebook and flipped it open to a blank page. She hesitated for a moment, wondering she should write her notes in French or English first. Shrugging, she went with ease and decided to write it down in English first. "I-I think it's cool," he added.

He spoke so suddenly Melanie had no idea what he was talking about. "You think what's cool?" she asked.

"Oh, uhm, that you want to play on the team," he explained.

"Oh!" She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thanks." She held his gaze for a moment and then went back to writing her notes. Isaac followed her lead and opened up a book. "I just hope it all works out."

"Well...why wouldn't it?"

"You heard Coach. He doesn't want a girl on his team. And Jackson's not hiding that he wants the same thing."

"Coach isn't stupid. He wants to win."

"He also wants his team his way."

"Maybe but...you're better than a lot of the other guys. And soon he'll know it."

Isaac's conviction put a pleased smile on her face but it didn't make her doubts go away. Sure, she wanted to be on the team. Badly. She'd wanted to be on the team since she first saw the Beacon Hills High Cyclones storm the field a few years ago. And while she had her eyes on the prize she wasn't that naive about how she would fare. Them being bigger than her was one thing but now she had a new obstacle in place: Who knows what practice would be like if Scott's sudden improvements weren't a fluke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, she's already a bit suspicious of the goings on around Beacon Hills but how much does she really know? You're going to have to keep reading to find out! Please review and enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcomed.


	3. Something's Fishy

After practice that afternoon Melanie did her best to walk and make sure it looked like she was okay despite feeling pain all over her body. She knew the boys wouldn't go easy on her in practice but she didn't expect to be in that much pain. Even her eyelashes hurt. Jackson's vendetta against Scott seemed to spill over to everyone else. Anyone that was in his way he bulldozed over, including her. He knocked her around, slammed into her, smacked at her wrists with his stick, pushed her aside, whipped the ball at any part of her that wasn't protected, anything he could do to show that he didn't consider her an opponent.

But despite all of that she did her best to show why she deserved to be on the team. She ran faster than a good chunk of the boys and being smaller had its evasive advantages. Her catching and stick handling could do with some more improvement but out of ten shots on goal she managed to make six. She worked hard to push through the pain and keep up with the boys. Having Scott and Stiles shouting encouragement when they weren't playing helped her a lot.

But even after all that she had to keep her head up high and any trace of pain off her face as she did her best not to limp back to the locker room once practice was over with. Jackson sure did a number on her, if she were to be honest. Of course she wouldn't say that to his face, why give him another reason to ridicule her.

He was a weird one. His lacrosse captain status made him a raging lunatic whenever the season started up, which amplified his jerkish tendencies. But when it came to the swim season he seemed a bit mellower towards her, which was saying something. Maybe it helped that she was one of the top swimmers on the team.

It was almost like she was a fish when she was in the water, she could swim for days if it were humanly possible. There was nothing that could ease her mind better than a good swim. She would go for it now but she wasn't sure that her arms or legs would work properly enough to keep her above water.

As she slowly pulled off her padding she thought back to how Scot dominated the field again. It just didn't make sense. This wasn't a Disney movie, how could he go from zero to hero so fast? Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her practice shirt and pulled it off over her head. Her mind briefly went to drugs as a solution but then she wiped that away. Steroids didn't work that fast, not overnight. So what could it be?

Her mind didn't get a chance to come up with any sort of explanation when the door opened. Expected to see Erica, Melanie leaned forward to greet her but felt her words dying on her tongue when Lydia flounced in with Allison walking in behind her.

"Yeah?" Melanie asked, brushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead. She couldn't be the only one who found the visit weird. She and Lydia have hardly spoken to each other over the years.

"Okay, I'm only going to say this once," Lydia said while brushing her hair off her shoulder. "We just wanted to say that we think it's…interesting that you want to try out for the lacrosse team." She wrapped one arm across her stomach while holding her other up, her purse hanging from the crook in her elbow.

"Thank…you," Melanie said slowly, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two girls. Did Lydia Martin just give her a compliment? Was the world ending?

"What she means is we and the rest of the girls thinks it's great what you're doing," Allison said, her hands gripping the strap of her cross-body bag. A half smile appeared on her face, popping dimples into her cheeks. Melanie blushed and looked away.

"Yeah, only, make sure you stay out of Jackson's way," Lydia continued. She popped open her purse and dug around until she found her compact mirror and lipgloss. With a few swipes of the wand across her lips, she pinched it shut and then fluffed up her hair. "This may be revolutionizing to the school and all but if you cost us the championship…you'll regret it." She then smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Melanie stared as, with a flip of her hair, Lydia turned and stalked out of the locker room. Allison glanced at Melanie over her shoulder before following her friend out. Melanie let out the breath she had been holding. That wasn't as bad as she expected but it still left he reeling. Lydia was a strong force at the school; she could get anyone to do what she wanted, especially with having the lacrosse team on her side. Angering her and them was not an option if she wanted to live to see her graduation.

"Owww," she whimpered as she tried to tug a t-shirt down over her head. The angry bruise on her ribs was going to take a long while to go away, she could already tell. Now how was she going to hide it from her mom? Good thing she didn't have to worry about it just yet, she still had to stop by the Animal Clinic and drop Erica off at her house.

Finally managing to change back into her school clothes, which took a good ten minutes, she grabbed her bag and lacrosse stick and dragged them to the door to leave. She pushed open the door and had managed to get her backpack up on her shoulder only to stop when she came face to face with Stiles who was smiling at her. It was a creepy sort of smile that made her stop in her tracks.

"Dear God. That'd be a good face to use next Halloween, scare all the children away," she commented.

"Ha! You're so funny, Mels! What a knee slapper!" Stiles said loudly, reaching out to pat her arm. "This girl – so funny," he addressed the air next to him as if someone was there, jerking his thumb at her. "You're a riot, Crowe, that you are. A real…riot. Yeah." He stopped laughing and then popped his lips. "So! Can I borrow some of your books?"

Melanie blinked, her mind still reeling from his odd spiel. But that was Stiles for you, he was a bit odd. "What books?" she asked.

"Your supernatural books. The ones with ghosts and monsters and beings and stuff in them," he replied. "Those books."

"Oh!" She knew which ones he was referring to. She had only read them religiously throughout middle school. She didn't even need to look at them anymore to be able to recall information from it at the drop of a hat. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I don't have them on me right now but I can bring them in for you tomorrow."

"You will? Aw yes! Thanks! You rock!" he cheered, punching his fist into the air. "Great job on the field today, too."

"Mmm, you mean when I wasn't being body slammed into the ground by Whittemore?" Melanie asked, rolling her eyes. "Like, geeze, I get the guy's obsessed with Scott's new found powers and everything but….grrr! Can he lighten up?"

"Powers? Why powers? Why'd you say powers? Why powers?" Stiles demanded. His eyes were wide and he scratched behind his ear as he rattled off at the mouth. "I mean, ah, it's a very strange word to use, powers. Now that I think about it that's a weird word – powers. It's like combining 'pow' and 'flowers' only – uh – not really. Y'know?"

"No," Melanie replied deadpan. Her head tilted in concern as she stared at him. His eyes darted around the longer she stared at him. Clicking her tongue, she stepped forward and whispered, "How much Adderall have you taken today?"

"Oh, not that much, really!" Stiles replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he backed away from her. "So you'll bring the books in? Great! Thanks! See you later!" He flashed a double thumbs up, turned, and then bolted down the hallway. Melanie stood still as she listened to his quickly fading footsteps and then the distinct sound of the door slamming open.

"Okayyy, weirdo," Melanie muttered aloud. Lifting her bag higher, she went out the closest door to her and walked around the school building to the parking lot where Erica was waiting by her truck. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I had a run in with Lydia."

"Lydia?" Erica repeated, eyes wide. "Lydia wanted to talk to you?"

"I know, crazy right? Yeah, she and Allison were saying, basically, how they were glad that I'm trying to get on the lacrosse team and how I'm an inspiration to women everywhere or something." She threw her backpack and stick into the bed of her truck, unlocked the door with the push of a button, and climbed into the driver's seat. "Oww," she muttered under her breath. She tried to cut it off before Erica heard but it didn't stop her friend from catching on.

"I knew you'd get hurt," Erica said as she buckled up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing a bath can't cure." And a whole jar of cover up added in for good measure. She stopped reversing when she noticed the stern expression on Erica's face. "Really. It's not that bad."

Erica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?" she demanded.

Melanie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. "How honest do you want me to be?" she asked, stalling for time.

"Extremely."

"Oh my god, I'm gonna die!" Melanie wailed, her shoulders slumping as she gave into the pain that took over her body. Erica threw her head back and laughed. Melanie tried to glare at her but her lips started twitching and pressure built up in her stomach until she couldn't take it anymore and she burst into laughter as well.

**#   #   #**

"Where was it that you found the little guy?" Dr. Deaton asked as he turned the german shepherd puppy over in his hands. The little dog opened his mouth and tried to gnaw on his glove covered fingers. Chuckling, Dr. Deaton turned him around to look in its mouth.

"I was leaving home this morning and almost ran him over," Melanie replied, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder and tugged on the ends of her hair. "I think he just wandered into my yard. I almost didn't see him in time."

"It's a good thing you did. This little guy isn't that old, a couple months at the most," Dr. Deaton said as he continued looking the puppy over. "Doesn't seem to have any sort of trauma. He's a little malnourished, though. We would like to keep him here overnight just to be sure he gets the proper nutrients and then start to look for his owners."

"Okay, thank you," Melanie said with a nod. Dr. Deaton smiled, picked up the puppy, and then carried him into the back room. "Is it bad that I kinda don't want anyone to claim him?" she addressed Scott who had been sweeping dust off of the office floor.

"Nah, I feel the same way whenever I come in," he replied with a kind smile. "It's hard to see those cute little faces pressed up against the bars. The good thing is that most of them have owners so I don't get too attached."

"What about the ones that don't have owners?" she asked.

He hesitated, eyes briefly glancing at the floor before he spoke, "We have to take them to a shelter. And if no one gets them from there…they have to be put down." He sighed. "I'd adopt them all if I could but, you know Mom, she already has her hands full with me."

"Yeah, we don't need any more puppy eyes around us," Melanie joked, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He chuckled in a bashful manner and fixed his now mussed hair. A second later a thought occurred to her ad she said nonchalantly, "Oh, by the way, Allison asked me about you."

She watched in amusement as Scott nearly dropped the broom he had been holding. It took him a few tries to get it back in an upright position. Once it stood tall, he rested his body weight against it and peered at her. "She did?" he asked. "Wha-what did she say? Er, ask?"

Melanie pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. "All she asked was if I was friends with you," she replied. "See, it was before French class and after I told her that we were friendly she was going to ask or say something else but then class started and we never got a chance to talk after that. Sorry." Scott nodded his head and looked down at his hands. "Oh!" She slapped her palm against her forehead. "Also! Does Stiles have a girlfriend?" Erica had asked her to ask Stiles but asking Scott was close enough, wasn't it? They were almost the same person, anyway.

Blinking at the sudden topic change, Scott slowly shook his head. "No, he's single," he replied. He paused, head tilting, and then asked, "Why? Do you like him? Do you want to go out with him?"

"What? Me? No!" Melanie replied, her eyes widening in horror. "No! I'm asking for a friend!"

"Is…is there really a friend?" he continued. "Because people say that all the time. That they're asking for a friend, when they're actually the friend they're asking for. Are you the friend?"

"I'm not the friend, Scott," she said through clenched teeth. "I am just asking for one."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands. "No need to get defensive about it."

She pushed a breath through her nose. The simple idea of her liking Stiles rubbed her the wrong way. For one thing, he was too sarcastic for his own good (and besides, she didn't catch onto it most of the time so she would spend too much time trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not and she didn't have time for that). And for another, he wasn't the one who shared his chocolate cupcake with her when she dropped hers on the floor in fourth grade. No, he was the one who asked her if she had dropped hers and then painstakingly made a show of licking the icing off of his.

She still hadn't forgiven him for that.

"So, um…what do you think Allison was going to ask?" Scott asked, tapping his fingers against the broom handle again. "I mean, you're a girl—"

"Thanks for noticing," Melanie cut in, flashing him an endearing smile.

"—you can read each other's minds or something like that, right? Do you have an idea of what she was going to ask you?" The hopeful look in his dark eyes made her want to pinch his cheeks.

"If I had to take a guess?" She rubbed her chin while thinking. "Probably if you're into her." She rolled her eyes at the obvious answer she had to give. "Which she should be able to see a mile away with the way you've been looking at her, Smiley," she grunted at the smile that had blossomed over his face. "I mean, she keeps going to lacrosse practice to watch you."

"Well…she could be going to watch you," Scott countered. "With that whole girl on a boy's team thing."

"Oh no, trust me, it's you," she replied. "Everyone has come to watch you. I mean, you've become a star player in one night. It's farfetched. You have to see it to believe it and people want to see it. What's your secret, McCall? You've been holding back on us all this time?"

He chuckled and scratched behind his ear. "No, um, it's just…a lot of practice. That's all."

"So how come Stiles still plays like…well, Stiles?"

"Because he's…Stiles?"

That made sense in regards to their overzealous friend but his own explanation didn't. She practiced just as much as he did. ...Well, okay, he _did_ have last season up on her, even though he and Stiles sat on the bench the whole year. But still, she worked hard and even _she_ couldn't pull off the feats that he managed. Still, he wasn't exactly known for lying. She shook her head. Her suspicions were only giving her green eyes; it wasn't something she prided herself on experiencing.

"Hey, I'll let you get back to work." She flashed him a sweet smile. "I am happy for you, really. I hope you make first line." Scott's beaming smile put a flutter in her chest and she hurried away before she did something stupid like thing too long about it. The bell above the door dinged as she exited. Her hand had jut curled around the dingy silver of the door-handle when she stilled.

Frowning, her head cocked to the side and a prickly sensation settled on the side of her face. Almost as if...she were being watched. She looked around, her eyes bouncing from the rustling leaves, to the fly hovering around the light in the brick wall above the clinic sign, to the guy across the street in a leather jacket, to the squirrel that darted across a power-line— _wait._

Melanie looked across the street again only to find it empty. She squinted, the sight across from her appearing to zoom in, like an extended camera lenses. She shook her head and her vision returned to normal. She frowned, took a step forward, only to stop when the dogs in the clinic became to bark and howl all at once. "Well _that's_ not ominous," she muttered. With a dismissive shrug, she hopped into her car and drove home.

**#   #   #**

The warm bathwater lulled Melanie into a peaceful state once she was submerged. Her hair piled atop of her head, she sank as low into the water as possible, the water line resting right beneath her nose so it wavered and wobbled with every breath she blew out.

Her entire body felt weightless within in the water. She felt as if she was floating. With her eyes closed she let her mind drift far away, away from the pain that nagged in the back of her head, away from the worries and stress of the day, away from the muffled voices of her parents downstairs. She couldn't decipher if they were arguing or not but if they weren't she was sure an argument was going to start sometime soon.

Darkness seeped in as she closed her eyes and blew air out of her mouth, bubbles rising up to the surface. She sunk lower, her knees bending slightly to accommodate her whole body now under water. She could feel her beating heart slow in her chest. The previous need for oxygen had dissipated and she lay in comfortable silence.

Her eyes fluttered open and she spotted…seaweed? She opened her eyes fully and looked straight up. The end of a stalk of seaweed swayed to and fro and, high above her, the mottled rays of the sun wiggled up at the surface line,

If that hadn't surprised her before, looking down sure did. Gone were her legs and in place was a long, flowing tail. Blueish-purple scales covered the fin which bounced the sunlight off of it. Holding her hands out in front of her face she noticed that a thin web-like membrane stretched out between each finger. Her hands then flew to her neck where she felt two slits. Pressing down on them slightly she could feel water being sucked in. Her chest inflated as if she had taken a big gulp of fresh air and when she blew out bubbles streamed up to the surface.

What in the world was going on? She had been in her bathroom and now…where was she? She turned around so she was floating on her stomach and looked around at the vast waterscape. Finding nothing but the rolling waves high above her head she stretched her new muscles and gave her fin a good kick. It propelled her forward much faster than she expected, pushing her out at least ten feet in one kick.

Excitement running through her veins, she stretched her arms in front of her and slapped her fin through the water. The membrane between her fingers helped propel her forward through the water. A smile blossomed on her face as she passed by colorful reefs and seaweed and plant life. One thicket seemed to house a heard of the prettiest angelfish she had ever seen. She needed a closer look.

Shifting directions, she swam towards the angelfish heard, her hair billowing out behind her as if suspended in midair. Once she got close enough to the reef she floated above it, admiring the fish that swam around. Moving further down the reef, she began to get a closer look at the structure when something in the shadows beneath caught her eye. A red light? She tilted her head in curiosity and got closer. The red light split into two, almond-shaped glowing structures.

Eyes.

Melanie sucked in a breath to scream only to feel water rushing into her lungs. Her hands shot out and grabbed for anything as she struggled for air. Finally her fingertips scrambled against the smooth edges of the bathtub and she held on tight. Lifting herself up, her head broke through the surface of the water and she coughed and spluttered while trying to get air into her lungs. She brushed her wet hair out of her face and looked at her hands. They looked normal. Then she looked down to see her legs bent at the knees across the bottom of the tub. Her heart rammed against her chest and it lurched at the knocking on the door.

"Melanie? Are you okay in there?" Arabella called through the door.

"Y-yeah," Melanie called back. "Just fine. I'm getting out now."

"Okay. Dinner will be ready soon."

With shaky hands, Melanie reached over the edge of the tub and grabbed the towel that she had dropped on the floor nearby. She brushed the water off of her hands and then pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the tub to dry off her arms. Swinging her legs around, she placed her feet on the mat and began to dry them when the towel snagged. Eyebrows crinkling, Melanie moved the towel to see what it was that had caused the snag.

Scales lined the top of her legs.

She rubbed at her eyes with her thumbs and looked again. Smooth skin stared back at her. Sighing heavily, she ran a hand through her wet hair. Maybe she had gotten hit harder than she thought at practice. That was the only solution to this insanity.


	4. No Air

The week flew by in a blur and the next thing they knew it was Friday. It was finally the beginning of the weekend, the end of the school week, the day of Lydia's big party, and, more importantly, the day of the big lacrosse scrimmage to find out who was going to make first line. The whole school had been abuzz about the day since Scott's big transformation into a lacrosse playing machine. Everyone except Erica, anyway, who was still curled up in bed that morning when Melanie called to let her know that she was on her way to pick her up.

"Don't bother," Erica said into her cell phone receiver. Her head was tilted to hold it against her shoulder as she used her free hands to stroke the fur of her snow white cat. "I'm not going today."

"What, why!? Eri, I need you in the stands cheering me on!"

"I can cheer you on from here," she said. "I'm not feeling well today."

" _Eri._ " Erica could hear the prying tone that Melanie was trying to use on her. It used to work but not this time. Erica was standing her ground. She just didn't feel up to going to school that day, what was wrong with that? Her mother understood that she need a Me Day sometimes, why couldn't her best friend? "Please. Please, please, please, please come today!"

"I'll just see you tomorrow or something, okay?" Erica replied. "Hey, text me if you make the team. I'll make jersey cookies."

"Hey, are you okay?" Melanie asked, all traces of suspicion now replaced with concern. "I can drop by during lunch?"

"No, no, it's fine. I just need a break," Erica replied. "Really. You go and have a good day and we can talk later." She removed her phone from her ear and jabbed the end call button before Melanie could protest. She tossed it away right as her mother barged into the room. "Ever hear of knocking?" Erica grumbled.

"It's my house, knocking is optional," Mrs. Reyes replied. She sat on the edge of her bed and pushed Erica's hair off her face to press a kiss to her forehead. "I might be home late tonight; I have a few surgeries lined up." Mrs. Reyes works as an Ophthalmologist; while she primarily dealt with eyeglass and contact lenses fittings she also performed corrective surgery when the moment arises. "Do you want me to bring anything back?"

"No, I'll just order in," Erica replied. "Melanie might come over later if that's okay."

"Sure! I'll leave you two money if you want a pizza," Mrs. Reyes said. "Have a good day, sweetie." She patted Erica's shoulder and started to leave the room only to stop and point at the medicine bottle on her nightstand. "Don't forget to take your medicine."

Erica rolled her eyes. "I never forget, Mom. See?" She made a show of popping the cap, dispensing one medicine pill into her palm, and then popped it into her mouth to swallow. She then tilted her head back and stuck out her tongue as her mother removed a mini flashlight from her pocket to check. "All gone," she stated, not bothering to hide her annoyance over the fact that her mother still needed to check on her. "You can go now."

"Okay, okay, I get the hint." Mrs. Reyes put the flashlight back into her pocket. "I'll call in sometime later."

"Okay, bye." Erica waved her hand to signal for her mom to leave. Once her bedroom door closed she rolled off her bed and went to the window. She watched her mother get into her car, back out of the driveway, and drive down the street. Erica counted to ten before she rushed to the bathroom.

Dropping to her knees by the toilet, she lifted the lid and gathered her hair back into a ponytail. Draping it over one side, she stuck her head over the toilet bowl and shoved two fingers down her throat. Almost instantly her stomach clenched and a gagging sound squeeze out past her fingers. She removed her fingers and stuck her head further in the bowl. The sound of her retching bounced around the porcelain. She gasped for air, gagged again, and then felt her previously eaten food expel past her lips and into the toilet. She gripped the cool toilet rim with slightly sticky fingers and held her head in place until her stomach stopped convulsing.

Lifting her head, she wiped the dangling string of saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand. She slowly got to her feet and made her way to the sink. Grimacing at the small chunks coating her tongue, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed away as much as she could. After she spat the excess toothpaste into the toilet she wiped her mouth with a nearby hand towel and then dug around in the top drawer. She successfully found the tape measure she had been looking for.

Erica then stepped on the scale in the corner of the bathroom as she lifted her shirt halfway. Keeping the tip of the measuring tape against her bellybutton she wrapped the rest of it around her back and the other side of her stomach, pulling it as tight as possible with breathing room. She glanced down at the numbers on the scale—which read 136—and then at the tape measure around her stomach. No change.

Growling in frustration, she tossed the measuring tape away. It smacked against the mirror and bounced around until it landed in the sink. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror and she felt her stomach turn from the sight alone. Her mother used to say that high school was supposed to be a transforming experience. And yet here she was, a caterpillar stuck in a world of butterflies.

**# # #**

Melanie was bored. She was _dreadfully_ bored. Without Erica around she felt as if she were lost in the middle of the woods with no idea of which way to go. So she tried every direction she could think of.

She tried talking to Allison before classes started but found herself zoning out not only a sentence in since the only thing she spoke about was how Scott had asked her to Lydia's party and how they bonded over an injured puppy. Melanie didn't need to hear how amazing Scott was, she already had a firsthand experience with that. On the flip side, asking Scott about the german shepherd puppy she had dropped off garnered the same reaction, only he couldn't stop talking about their date and how she wanted to go on a date with _him._ Barf. She wasn't anywhere near a good enough mood to deal with Lydia and Jackson putting her down for the sake of someone to talk to. There was Isaac but after sitting on him and making a fool of herself she didn't trust herself or her lack of awareness for that to not happen again. So that left only one person.

"Hey Stiles," Melanie greeted him as she dropped down in the seat next to him in the library. He had a pile of books surrounding him and his nose was shoved deep within the pages of one. She frowned when she noticed that he didn't tear his eyes away from the book. "Stiles," she repeated, poking him in the arm. He left go of the book and waved her away, still not taking his eyes off the page. Quirking and eyebrow, she leaned over until her chin rested on his shoulder so she could see what it was that had his attention. _Werewolves?_ Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes shifted back and forth between his face and the book. Huffing, she leaned even closer until her mouth hovered by his ear and then she howled.

"Gah! Geeze, Mel!" Stiles yelled, jerking away from her. She laughed as he wiggled his finger in his ear. Other occupants of the library aimed hissing shushes their way. Melanie got comfortable in her seat as Stiles glared. "Next time try the bat signal. It'll get my attention a lot faster," he muttered sarcastically.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," she said as she began to search it on her phone, the tone of his comment flying over her head. "D'you know anywhere that sells them? Preferably on the cheap side?" Looking up from the screen, she noticed him staring pointedly at her. Her shoulders raised in a silent question and he rolled his eyes.

"Sarcasm, Mels, sarcasm," he sighed.

"Ah." She exited the web app that had popped up and then put her phone away. "So are you done with my books yet or do you still need them?"

"No I – ah – I still need them. Doing some research for a, uh, a class! For a project! A project for a class, yeah. Y'know, a…creative sort of thing," he said, scratching behind his ear.

"Like creative… _writing?_ "

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Yeah, like that!"

"And it's on werewolves?"

"Yeah! It's, y'know, good source material. Everyone likes movies about werewolves. They're the scariest monsters, right? Lots of information on them and stuff. There's…history too, y'know." He closed the book and propped his elbow up on it. "Lacrosse! Let's talk about lacrosse. Are you excited for today?"

"Is it bad if I say I'd be excited if Scott somehow broke his leg before the scrimmage?" she asked wile slumping in her seat. He stared at her. "It's not that I don't want him to make first line, it's just…he's so good. He's bound to get it for sure. That's one spot gone. What about the rest of us?"

"We'll just have to try harder," Stiles replied. "Besides, I think we have an in. Coach isn't very fond of Greenberg so I don't think he'd want to deal with him that much."

Melanie held up a finger, indicating that he had made a good point. "True." She grabbed her phone to check if Erica had responded to her text yet but she found her inbox empty. She must be napping. She had been replacing her phone in her pocket when a movement by the door made her take pause and then inhale a sharp breath.

"What? What? Is it Lydia? Is she wearing that cute little mini skirt?" Stiles asked, sitting straight up to see what it was that made her gasp.

"No! Even worse!" Melanie grabbed the book he had been reading and opened it wide, propping it up on the table so she could hide behind it.

"Lydia in a—"

"This isn't about Lydia!" She grabbed onto Stiles's shoulder and pulled him down so he was hidden behind the book as well.

"Then what's the problem?"

" _That!_ " Melanie pointed over the top of the book to where Isaac was putting some books on the return cart.

"Isaac?" Stiles made a face. "I don't get it."

"I might have…accidentally…sat on him," Melanie mumbled, her cheeks flushing as she relived the memory in her mind.

"Ah, yeah, well, that makes sense. Y'know since his lap looks…very inviting and all. You know, I would even want to take a turn. If it were _Christmas._ "

"Shut up, Piles. God! Can you not be sarcastic for one second?"

He rested his cheek upon his palm. "I could but I think it would kill me," he replied. Somehow she knew he was being honest. "Hey, you caught on that time."

"Don't be proud of me, I took a guess," she replied. "That inviting lap comment was a bit of an indicator."

"Hey! He does have a nice looking lap area." His comment hung in the air as she sat up taller, her eyes narrowing. He smirked and licked his lower lip. "Apparently you think so too."

"What? No! Look!" she replied, pointing again. As she pointed Isaac had lifted his head from a book he was reading in an aisle. He closed it with a pinch of his hands and then turned to return it to a shelf. This angle gave them a good view of the cut on his left cheek. "Where'd he get that?"

"Uh, he plays lacrosse," Stiles pointed out. "It's not exactly a knitting circle."

"A blow to the helmet can't do that," Melanie replied. "It's cushioned for a reason." She shrieked and ducked her head again when Isaac looked around the library. "Okay, I gotta go," she said, hastily slamming the book shut and began to gather her things.

"Wait! I still need that book!" Stiles said, grabbing onto the other end of the book.

She pulled on it. "I need cover!"

He pulled back. "I need information!"

"Stiles, let go!"

" _You_ let go!"

Their little battle of tug of war ended when Scott burst into the library yelling that he needed to talk to Stiles, only to be shushed by others. His appearance startled her to the point that she let go of the book, causing Stiles to stumble and his chair to almost fall over but he grabbed onto the table and held on for dear life.

"Sorry, it's an emergency," Scott said to Melanie. "It's a, uh, a guy thing." Adding in for good measure and to make sure she offended he added, "Good luck at practice today!"

"Thanks. I'd say the same to you but I don't think you'd need it. You're a shoo-in. Regardless, good luck to you, Stiles!" She gathered her things, fluttered her fingers to wave goodbye, and snuck out of the library once Isaac's back was turned. Her lips fluttered with the sigh she breathed once out in the hall. Now who was she going to talk to? Her shoulders slumped. She wished she had convinced Erica to come to school that day, her stomach was twisted in a tight knot that only she would be able to work out with her encouragement.

She turned the nearest corner and made a beeline for the door. She had a call to place.

**# # #**

"What. The. Hell. Am. I. _Doing?_ " Melanie muttered under her breath. Her hands were wringing against the cool metal shaft while her knees knocked together. She ran her tongue across her cold lips as she watched the other guys on the team jogging around the field, tossing the ball back and forth, ramming into each other to test defensive tactics, dodged and weaved, anything to get ready for the scrimmage that was to decide their fate. Practice all week was leading up to this moment and now they would have an audience? May as well shove her out in the middle of the field while they play her childhood videos on a constant loop.

She blew out a breath and shook out a hand, trying to remember what it was that Erica had said to her when she called. That she was rough, she was tough, and that she could do it. Yeah, she could if she wasn't so terrified of having a permanent cleat mark on her face.

_It's okay, it's okay, you can do this. Just…pretend it's another practice. I mean, it is one, but try not to think of the stakes at hand. And try not to worry about Jackson willing to crush you to get to the goal. Or Coach Finstock watching you like a hawk. Or all the girls putting weight on your shoulders. Or—_

Her train of thought broke when she felt a nudge on her arm. Blinking, she turned her attention to Scott who smiled up at her as he dug through his bag. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Melanie replied. "How're you doing under the pressure of your adoring fans?" She motioned to the students gathered around the bleachers behind them.

He shook his head. "It's…crazy," he muttered. "I just hope I don't embarrass myself."

"You'll be fine. Stiles and I have your back." She tugged at the red jersey she was wearing for emphasis of her point. The team was split down the middle for the scrimmage that day, half of them were wearing red jerseys and half of them were wearing black. They would be swapped in and out of position to see where they fit and if they played well they would be selected for a position on first line. In a perfect world she would play an attack position, preferably on the right side, but a midfield position would work for her as well.

As if he had heard his name being mentioned, Stiles came running over to Scott, screeching his name in a high pitched voice along the way.

"Stiles, I'm playing the first elimination. Can it wait?" Scott asked amidst Stiles's frantic movements.

"Just hold on, okay," Stiles replied, bending over at the waist to gasp for air. "I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hairs from the body in the woods!"

"Wait, you two went in search for that dead body?" Melanie demanded, cutting in. Stiles glanced at her. A moment later a thought occurred to her and she turned to Scott. "Was that why you never came over to help me out? And, more importantly, how come you didn't ask me to come?"

"Look, guys, I gotta go," Scott said, grabbing his gear. Stiles tried to stop him but his pleas for Scott to listen fell on deaf ears, mentioning something about a wolf. Melanie squinted. First the books about werewolves—no, _creative writing assignment_ , as if she believed that excuse—and now this. Why was the animal responsible being a wolf so important? She had to ask, had to know. Her eyes swiveled around, landing on Stiles. Coach Finstock's whistles stopped that from happening. Her questions would have to wait, she guessed. With a sigh of defeat, she grabbed her helmet and she jogged out onto the field with the rest of the boys, standing near the edge of the semi-circle they made around the coach.

He went on to fire up the team with a somewhat motivational speech about the realities of the practice which ended on the note of it all being "cream cheese" or whatever. Either way, the team was riled up and pumped and ready to go. Anyone within the vicinity of the field could feel it. Blood rushed in Melanie's ears and her heart thumped in anticipation.

She, Stiles, and Isaac were benched at first with a few of the other players as the scrimmage started. Jackson was on the black jersey team and facing off against Scott and the red jersey team. The tension in the air was thick and nothing had even happened yet. Melanie pressed her palms together and held them against her mouth, one foot bounced rapidly on the ground as Jackson and some other player crouched near the ball. The whistle blew.

The scrimmage was on.

The ball was flung back and forth as the players ran around the field trying to score and block scoring. Twenty minutes went by and Jackson had managed to score four goals in that time. People were swapped in and out of positions but Jackson stayed on the field for the most part, Scott too. At one point he had the ball passed to him but he was knocked down by Jackson, causing the spectators on the stand to groan.

"Come on, come on, get up," Stiles muttered as he watched intently. Melanie was biting her thumbnail at this point, her foot still bouncing on the ground. Her anxiety rose and fell along the crowd as they watched but she couldn't place who it was for, herself or Scott. Maybe his new power was a fluke? Maybe he was still the asthmatic boy who could get crushed by a good blow and wouldn't get back up?

At the brief blow of a whistle Jackson and Scott now lined up at the center circle, crouching low, and their sticks on the ground. Everyone in the audience seemed to be holding their breaths, Melanie included. She could almost feel the intensity in the glare that Jackson was throwing Scott's way.

"Oh god, I can't watch!" she exclaimed while grabbing onto the hands on either side of her, one was Stiles's and the other Isaac's. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the whistle to blow, signaling the play. At the sound she squeezed their hands tight and waited for a reaction, one way or another, that would indicate their fate.

A few murmurs went through the crowd followed by a few gasps and exclamations of awe but even though that torture she didn't open her eyes. It wasn't until a loud cheer went through the stands grabbed her attention enough that she cracked one eye open to see Scott and other members of the red team jumping up and down. Next to her Stiles appeared stunned.

"Scott made the shot," Isaac told her, as if reading the unanswered question on her mind.

"Oh!" she said and then added in a delayed "yay!" amidst Coach yelling for Scott to get off the field. Her smile quickly faded as did the one on Scott's face as he jogged over to the coach to see what it was that he wanted. She leaned forward on the bench, straining to hear what it was that he was chastising Scott for. It wasn't until people around her stood up to cheer and she heard someone call out "first line" that it hit her that Scott had made it. Scott made first line! Letting go of Stiles's and Isaac's limp hands she jumped up and screamed her support but she couldn't help but notice that Stiles didn't seem as excited about the news.

A ref blew a whistle signaling halftime and the players gathered around on the benches, squirting water into their mouths from their water bottles and fixing their hair which was matted with sweat just in case someone was looking at them. Melanie half listened to whatever speech Coach was going through as she dug into the bag of orange slices that was going around. She couldn't warm a bench on an empty stomach after all!

Her face scrunched up as she tried to gnaw a piece of orange off of its rind, Stiles's hissing whispers to Scott floating through one ear and out the other. But that all turned to quiet background noise as she zoned out, focusing on her snack. A shrill whistle in her ear made her mind come slamming back to the present and she blinked to see Coach's face close to hers.

" _Aaaah!_ " she screamed, leaping onto the nearest person to her which, with her luck, was Isaac. Again. "Sorry! Sorry!" she squeaked, scrambling off his lap to reclaim her seat on the bench amidst the laughter of all those around her.

"Crowe! Get your ass out of la la land! I don't want daydreamers on this team!" Coach yelled in her face. "Now, if you would like to rejoin us on Planet Earth, you're going in next half. Unless you want to sleep through that!"

"No coach," Melanie replied, lifting her hand to salute him. He held her gaze for a moment, giving her a pointed look, and then turned away. She sighed, her shoulder slumping as she rubbed a gloved hand over her face. Then her body stiffened as his words registered in her mind. "Wait, what!? I'm going in? I'm playing?" She grabbed onto Stiles's shoulder pads and shook him. "I'm playing!" A second later her smile fell off her face and she held her head in her hands. "Oh my god, I'm gonna die."

"No, no one's dying out there today," he replied, patting her on the back. "Jackson will be off the field. So the only one you'll have to worry about is…him." He lifted his chin right as Isaac got off the bench and walked by them; his stick and helmet in hand. "Maybe he'll go easy on you. I mean, after all, you are, ahem, _seat mates._ " He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing aloud but a snorting sound managed to make it through.

" _Shut up, Piles,_ " she growled through clenched teeth. Reaching behind the bench she dug around in her bag for her mp3 player. Choosing a song from her _Pump Up Playlist_ she placed her headphones over her ears and closed her eyes to allow the song to put her into the zone she needed to focus. The music did its job, pumping up her spirits and getting her psyched that by the time the whistle was blown again for the second half of the scrimmage she was up and ready to go. After making a deal with Stiles to help each other out, she made sure her gear was on properly and then took the field.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest and seemed to echo in her ears as she took her place on the left front side of the field. The two center attackers crouched at the center line, waiting for the whistle. She looked over their heads to where Stiles was standing. He looked as if he were about to puke, his lips were pressed together so hard. She wondered if she looked the same. He lifted his hand, pointed two of his fingers at his eyes and then pointed at her. She returned the gesture and added a thumbs up at the end. _We got this!_

Her muscles tensed. She tightened her grip on the shaft of her crosse. The whistle blew. Time seemed to slow down. Everyone moved slowly. She saw the two boys wrestling over the ball for a moment before someone on their team grabbed it. She ran forward, getting herself into an empty spot. She watched as the ball was cradled and ran around one opponent before it was passed off to Stiles. He had only taken a few steps forward when he was knocked over, earning a groan from the crowd. Thankfully he popped right back up and slapped the side of his helmet as if he was punishing himself.

The center attacker got the ball again, tried to run around the player that stayed glued to his side, and then paused, looking around. Melanie held her breath. She saw the shift of his weight before he threw the ball at her. Reaching out, she extended her stick and caught the ball. Turning, she managed to dodge the tank that charged towards her and ran towards the goal. She skidded to a stop to keep from colliding with another player and tossed the ball over to Stiles. He caught it and tried to move past the defenders that blocked him.

Melanie weaved between a few defenders that left a spot open and called out, "Stiles! Over here!" He turned his head and threw the ball. She ducked low to catch it before she hit the ground and turned to make the shot. Gripping the bottom shaft of the lacrosse stick, she pushed the top forward with her dominant hand, aiming for an empty space of the goal.

Her arcing movement was cut short when a hard hit exploded on her side. Her feet left the ground at the point of impact and she found herself flying through the air. It felt like an eternity before she hit the ground hard on her back. All breath that was in her flew out past her teeth in one quick _woosh._

She stared up at the bright blue sky, struggling to breathe but her lungs didn't work with her. Panic began to creep in as she tried to pull in air. What if she passed out? What if she never breathed again? What if she just died right then and there? Was it possible to predict her own death?

"Mel! Mel!"

The voices of those calling her name were muffled. The next thing she knew she was being tugged up into a sitting position and her helmet was pulled off her head.

"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" Stiles asked, holding her up by the arm. She shook her head and gestured at her neck, all the while still trying to breathe. "You broke your neck!?" he cried out.

"No, I think she just got the wind knocked out of her," Scott replied, somewhere above her.

Melanie tapped her nose, miming that he was right.

"So just take a breath." She shot him a withering look. As if she hadn't thought of that or wasn't trying for that matter. She didn't fancy the idea of dying on the lacrosse field due to the lack of oxygen. "Oh, right, okay. Bad suggestion."

"Let's get her up," Scott said.

The two hauled her up to her feet where she wobbled for a few seconds but managed to get her balance back. Applause went through the crowds as she brought a hand up to her head. She noticed everyone staring at her and then saw the figure of Coach pushing his way through the once kneeling players.

"Crowe! This isn't some play! There's no need for the theatrics!" he yelled.

"Coach, she got hit hard!" Scott protested. "The wind got knocked out of her."

"Boo hoo, she didn't break anything." Crouching down, hands resting on his knees, he looked in Melanie's eyes. "Do you want to get off the field, Crowe?"

Melanie sucked in a large, audible breath. She took in another one, let that go, and then shook her head. She wasn't going to quit, not after all this time. "No," she replied firmly. "No, I don't want to get off the field, Coach. I want to play."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked. "You just took a hard hit—"

"And I'm _fine. So I can take on another one. And another one. As many as it takes until I make this team." Wrenching her helmet out of Stiles's free hand she shoved it down on her head. "I'm playing, Coach," she told him. He ran a hand through his wild hair and walked back over to the sidelines. Turning to Scott she all but snarled, "Now, are you going to stand in my way or are you going to let me play? Choose wisely, McCall." He held up his hands, as if to block her words, and then moved aside for her. " _Thank you,_ " she said sternly and grabbed at her fallen stick._

_A few seconds ago, truthfully, she had considered just giving up. She was crazy to think that she could play on a boy's team but the sound of laughter was what made her change her mind right back. Someone laughing at her injury. But not just somebody, it was the distinct sound of _Jackson Whittemore_ laughing at her. She would not just let that go._

_She rolled her neck and kicked out her legs, getting her muscles ready for another hard few minutes of play. Could be a few seconds for all she knew but she was going to make them count. Once she lifted her eyes from the ground they rested on Isaac who looked back at her. She lifted her chin and held his gaze as if daring him to speak. But instead his body shook with a short breath-like laugh that he pushed through his nose as his mouth pulled back at the corner. Her lips twitched until her own mouth mimicked his smile._

_Breaking their stare, she let her eyes drop down to the ball that had been rolled over to her. Scooping it up, her focus shifted back to dodging the players that came running at her._

_She had a position to lock-down._


	5. Cold Comfort

"Oh my god, you should've seen Jackson's face when I got that goal past him!" Melanie gushed as she held a shirt in front of her. Scrunching up her face, she tossed it aside and picked up another from the large pile on the chair near the mirror. "It was the funniest thing I've ever seen! Like he had gotten slapped in the face."

"He may as well have been," Erica commented from the bed. She held her cat on her lap and was stroking her hair, a small smile on her face. "I can't believe you made the team!"

"Only second line," Melanie sighed, tossing another shirt aside. "I'll be riding the bench all season."

"Second line's better than nothing, right?"

Her mouth twisted to the side. She'd be gunning for first line, saw it in her sights, and then it slipped through her grasp. All that hard work...for nothing. But still... S _econd line's better than nothing._ "Right." She winked at Erica's reflection in the mirror. She couldn't stop smiling about the news despite how much she tried to downplay it. She was on the lacrosse team! _She had made the lacrosse team!_ She was an official lacrosse Cyclone! It wasn't exactly what she wanted, and she had to swallow a massive ball of initial disappointment, but it didn't take long for that to pass. Now to celebrate the news, she was getting ready for Lydia's after-party which the entire team had been invited to attend. The lacrosse team were VIP guests.

"How'd your mom and dad take it?" Erica asked.

"They were happy," Melanie replied. "Dad was ecstatic of course, wanted to take me out for dinner but I convinced him and Mom to go by themselves. They could use time alone and I wanted to sleep over with my best friend in the entire world who _should_ be coming to this party with me." Lifting her eyebrows and smiling wide, she wiggled the shirt that she was holding as if it was going to entice Erica to go.

Erica blew out a breath and shook her head. "I already told you, I'm not going. Lydia wouldn't even want me there."

"Lydia wouldn't even _notice_ you're there," Melanie pointed out. "I'm not even sure she'll noticed _I'm_ there."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem. No one would notice." Erica hung her head. "No one ever notices."

Huffing, Melanie sat down on the edge of Erica's bed and took her hand. " _I_ would notice," she said gently. "And I _do_ notice. I want you there to experience things with me. I missed you all day."

Erica snorted. "I could tell. You blew up my phone."

"Whose fault is that? Your's. Because you weren't there." She leaned forward and flicked Erica's nose. Erica playfully bit her finger. "Eri, please. It's just one night of fun. Look, Stiles is picking me up and we're going together. He has room in his jeep, you can come too."

Erica tried to hide it but Melanie saw her perk up at the mention of Stiles's name. The light that had been gone from her eyes reappeared and looked as if she was mulling it over. But then, it faded again, she shook her head, and leaned back against her pillows. "No, I'll just stay here." She tugged at a loose thread on the hem of her oversized t-shirt. "Tell me everything that happens."

"I don't want you sitting alone all by yourself," Melanie said.

Erica shrugged. "Nothing new, I'm used to it."

" _Erica._ "

"Mel, you are on the _boys' lacrosse team_. You're a good player and you're only going to get better. You'll be pushed into the spotlight and me? I'll just be your dorky, overweight, acne-ridden friend who watches from the sidelines." Melanie opened her mouth to protest but Erica held up her hand to stop her. "Maybe that's how things are supposed to be. You know I'll always be your number one fan. You're destined or greatness and I'm destined to run your fan club."

"Erica—"

"Let me help you find something," she said, bouncing off the bed. Her cat, not liking being suddenly tossed aside, dropped to the floor and stalked out of the room. Erica skipped over to her closet and started pushing clothes aside on the hanger. Melanie couldn't tell what Erica was going for; besides half of Erica's closet was filled with Melanie's clothes and vice versa. It was easier to keep some things there with how often they were at each other's houses. Melanie abandoned the pile of clothes on the chair and joined her at the closet, hovering as Erica yanked something off of a hanger. "This is cute. It'll look good on you," she said as she held out a dark floral print romper to Melanie.

"Err…" Melanie said, holding the romper up in front of her. She vaguely remembered receiving it as a gift from her mother last year. It didn't surprise her that it ended up in Erica's closet. "It looks...short _._ " She was sure her ass was going to hang out the back of it. No need to repeat her freshman year incident. She'd much rather the school be talking about her for making the team than flashing her ass to everyone who could see.

"I can fix that." Pushing aside more hangers, she pulled down a gray hooded cardigan and threw it to Melanie. "Wait! Add in…this belt and…oh! These boots." She gave Melanie the accessories and then paused while rubbing her chin. Snapping her fingers, she then went to her jewelry box and dug around until she pulled out a yin-yang pendant on the end of a black cord necklace. "Cute but casual. It screams you _and_ it's much better than your constant band shirts and jeans."

Melanie stuck her tongue out at Erica before heading to her private bathroom to change. She liked her band shirts and jeans, thank you very much. As she looked over the clothes that Erica had lent her she couldn't help but notice how well everything seemed to go together. If it was that simple for her why didn't Erica dress in it all the time instead of going for something unflattering to her body? She didn't have time to entertain the thought further as she heard the distinct sound of Stiles's honking jeep.

"I think that's Stiles," Erica commented. Her muffled voice sounded further away; Melanie wouldn't put it past her to be hanging out the window just for a glimpse of him.

"I'm coming!" Melanie called, pulling up the thin spaghetti straps. She shoved her arms through the sleeves of the cardigan and stomped her feet into the boots and burst out of the bathroom. "Last chance, are you _sure_ you don't want to go?" She stuck out her lower lip and widened her round eyes. "I'm gonna miss you," she said, adding a coo-like cadence to her words.

Erica picked up a pillow and bopped Melanie's head with it, grinning. "Go, you dork! Tell me _everything_."

"I will, I promise." She leaned forward and stood on her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on Erica's cheek. "See you. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Melanie rushed down the stairs, a little pep in her step as she went. In fact, the moment her feet touched the bottom floor she jumped into the air and clicked her heels. She reached the front door in time to hear Alicia Reyes address Stiles, "It's been a while. How is your father? I'm sure he has his hands full."

"Ah, you know, Pops is caught up with work," Stiles said; he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. Melanie noticed a small twitch in the corner of his mouth. "That senior citizen crowd is a rowdy bunch."

"Pretty sure she was talking about _you_ ," Melanie teased, pushing Stiles' head back with a finger to his forehead. He stumbled backwards and stuck his tongue out at her. "Miss Alicia, can you save me a few tapas for when I get back?"

Alicia smiled at her. "I'll see what I can do, _R_ _uiseñor._ Make sure you're back by eleven."

Melanie stared. " _Eleven!?_ It's a Friday night!"

"Your mother insisted," Alicia replied with a shrug. "And you know Arabella, all the Is are to be dotted and the Ts to be crossed, whether you're here or there."

Oh yes, she certainly knew her mother's uptight ways. Melanie's mouth twisted to the side and then relaxed along with her heaving teenage-worthy sigh. "Okay, fine. I'll be back by eleven."

"Drive safely." Alicia turned a pointed stare to Stiles. "You are not the only one who is to return home tonight. Yes?"

"Sure thing," Stiles said. He spun his keys around his finger to signal that he was ready to go. Melanie gave Alicia a quick hug and followed him down the path. She turned over her shoulder and waved at Erica's silhouette in her window. She skipped the rest of the way to Stiles's jeep, opened the door with an elongated creak, and climbed inside. " _R_ _uiseñor."_

"What?" Her hand stalled on the seatbelt; her hair cascaded her face as she looked up at him.

" _R_ _uiseñor_ ," Stiles repeated. His long fingers curled around the steering wheel. "That's what she called you."

"Yeah, I know. She's been calling me that for years." Her buckle settled with a loud _snap._

"Do you know what it means?"

"No." She shrugged. "Figure it can't be all that bad; Erica would've said something otherwise."

Stiles's reply was the sound of his engine turning over. He swiftly backed out of the driveway and off the went. Melanie bobbed her head along to the music crackling out of his speakers as she peered out into the darkness surrounding them.

"You look good, by the way," Stiles spoke up. He glanced away from the road to flash her a smile.

"You say that like you're surprised," Melanie commented.

"Not surprised. Not really. Figured you'd go with your usual ripped jeans and beanies."

She glanced down at his feet. "I notice you've ditched your converses."

He licked his lips. "Touche."

"Trying to impress a certain redhead?"

"Strawberry-blonde," Stiles immediately replied. Melanie's lips curled into a smirk. His eyes darted between her and the road so many times she thought that his eyes would pop right out of his head. "No, I'm not." _Liar._ He licked his lips. "Just, y'know...tryin' something new."

"Good. There's a lot of improvement that can be done but I think baby steps is the best way to handle it all," Melanie said. Stiles lifted his hand and extended his middle finger in her direction. Chuckling, she pushed it away. "So your better half is picking up Allison?"

"Yeah." Stiles licked his lower lip again, Melanie noted. "He's so stoked that someone as cool as her would want to go out with him."

Melanie shrugged. "Stranger things have happened." She glanced upwards, her eyes locking on the silvery moon that shone bright above them, casting down moonbeams like beacons. "Maybe the full moon has something to do with it."

Silence. Stiles swallowed. "What do you mean?"

Melanie looked at him. "I mean crazy things go on during the full moon. It's an actual thing! More accidents. More injuries. More crime. Worse sleep. Animals go crazy. There's so much shit that can happen during a full moon. It's where the term 'lunatic' came from, you know. People were so convinced that the moon had this great affect on our psyche. Seems to me there's some truth there." She watched as he rubbed a hand over his mouth and gripped the steering wheel tighter. _Interesting._ "Maybe that's why they found wolf hair on that girl." He whipped his head around. "Wasn't that what you were trying to tell Scott? That they found wolf hair on that dead body in the woods?"

Stiles turned his attention back to the road. She squinted, studying the side of his face. She caught the small, almost unnoticeable twitch to the muscle in his jaw. What was the big deal? It was just some animal hair. She couldn't quite figure out why it was so important for him to pass that information along to Scott, even past Stiles curiosity—as morbid as it was. Which meant that it had to mean _something_ , right? And if it meant something...what sort of something did it mean to _them?_

"Yeah," Stiles replied, "yeah, I was. But...maybe they were wrong. Could've been a coyote or something."

"Maybe." But something within her didn't quite buy it. He sat too rigid and his words were too stilted for that to just be it. And as she leaned back in her seat and watched him lick his lips— _again—_ it clicked. Pushing aside her own selfish curiosities, despite how much she wanted to press for an answer, she reached out and pushed his shoulder. "Hey, we made _second line_. We're going to _Lydia Martin's_ party. If that's not an indicator that weird shit is happening, I don't know what is. All I know, we're going to have a bomb-ass time!" She stretched out, resting her feet on his dash and crossing her legs at the ankles. She beamed at him. "We're not going to forget this night, Stiles, I can feel it!"

**#    #    #**

By the time they made it to the party it was already in full swing. Guests danced on the space by the pool, arms up in the air, red solo cups clutched in their hands in time with the pop music that poured out of the speakers. Strings of light connected between the main house and the pool house. Inside guests were eating snacks and mingling about, the main topic of conversation being the scrimmage that day. A few guests were making out in corners on and on chairs in plain view but no one bothered them as they went about their business.

As soon as Stiles and Melanie arrived he set about looking for Lydia, hoping to catch a glimpse of her and maybe even thank her for inviting him. But that plan of action failed as soon as he saw her attached to Jackson's side so he turned his attention to mingling with other lacrosse players and talking about their upcoming season.

Melanie didn't mind continuing the conversation; she was excited to be a part of it. Tingles still shot over her body whenever she thought of being an official lacrosse player. She didn't want the feeling to go away anytime soon.

Sometime later a ripple went through the crowd to let some people pass and go out to the pool/dance area. Part of the group were Scott and Allison, both of whom looked as if they had just been struck by Cupid's arrow, shooting nervous smiles back and forth at one another. Heck, it was obvious they only had eyes for each other at that point. They were way beyond smitten.

"Dang, she looks good," a random boy commented, his eyes glued to Allison as she led Scott to the dance floor. "McCall's one lucky bastard. What does she see in him anyway?"

Melanie pursed her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced at them. What _didn't_ she see would be a better question. Anyone who knew Scott could easily say he was the sweetest, nicest boy on the planet. And obviously Allison figured that one out. It was nice to not be alone in that sentiment anymore but... Melanie turned away from the sight before the festering and strange angry twist in her stomach got worse.

She sipped on her can of soda throughout the night as people started to fall over due to being tipsy or flat-out drunk. After last year she and alcohol just didn't mix; she was lucky her mother never caught wind of _those_ particular shenanigans. Beacon Hills was a small place, word spread faster than the cold. A game started among the small lacrosse group about who would be the next to fall over or who would puke first. Their bet was on Greenburg but when Scott rushed by them their guess changed to him.

"Whoa, Scott, you good?" Stiles called out, trying to reach his friend. But Scott kept going, his face scrunched up in pain. Stiles rubbed his hand over his short, buzzed hair, staring at Scott's retreating back. His lips moved but no sound came out. He swung his eyes over to Melanie. "Hey, Mels, can you go check on Allison while I deal with Scott?"

She blinked. "I guess, but—"

"Thanks!"

Melanie sighed when Stiles pushed his way through the crowd. Scott didn't seem to good and she would have liked to check on him herself but then she thought better of it. Allison would want to know why he suddenly split on her; maybe she could help smooth things over. This was his first shot at something... _real._ He didn't deserve to have that shut down right away. She put her soda can down and started pushing her own way through when Allison came through on the other side, chasing after Scott. Stopping on a dime, Melanie shifted her weight and followed after Allison, calling out her name but the girl seemed to be on a mission to get out. Allison was already down on the sidewalk in front of the house when Scott drove away once Melanie burst through the front door.

She had begun to call out to Allison again some guy in a leather jacket approached her. Eyebrows furrowing, she watched as he spoke to her. Something about him was off. Maybe it was his rigid stance, maybe it was the forced smile on his face, maybe it was that some twenty-something was hanging around a bunch of teenagers like some chaperone. And maybe it was because he felt familiar to her somehow. But...how? As he continued to speak, Allison tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted her weight, every now and then she'd glanced over her shoulder, down the street to where Scott disappeared. Digging into her pocket, Melanie pulled out her cell phone and used her finger and thumb to zoom in the camera to take a picture of him. The guy in the leather jacket tilted his head and Allison followed him.

Melanie turned back into the house, squeezing through any available space she could find. She had to find Stiles. She checked random rooms before going out the back and found him sprinting towards the back gate.

"Stiles! Stiles, wait!" she called out.

He planted his feet on the ground a couple of times to slow his movements as he looked over his shoulders. "Mel, what? I have to go after Scott!" he yelled back.

"It's Allison," she replied, waving her phone around and beckoning him to get closer. "If you find Scott tell him that this guy took her home. So he doesn't worry." She showed him the photo that she took.

"Right. Okay, got it. I gotta go!" he said and started to run again.

Melanie put her phone away when a thought occurred to her. "But, wait! Stiles! You're my ride!"

"I know!" he called back. "I'm sorry, this is an emergency! Find someone else!"

Melanie tossed one arm into the air and let it fall against her side. She shook her head. _Unbelievable!_ The full moon was really working it's magic; those two were being so _weird._ Rolling her eyes, she walked around the side of the pool and tried to get through the dancing crowd to look for someone to drive her home. Instead she ended up coming face to face with Jackson; she let out a little yelp and turned in an attempt to get away but he was faster than her. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her back around to face her ate.

"Uhm, is there a problem?" she asked, trying to get out of his grasp but he held on tight.

"Just one," he replied, shaking her shoulder.

"And I'm guessing…it's me?" she said.

"Bingo." _If he clenched his teeth any harder he'd be snacking on them._ "Look, I'm sure everyone thought it was cute that you wanted to try out for the lacrosse team. Power to the girls and shit like that."

"Well, really, I have a big interest in the sport and—"

"Shut up," Jackson hissed, interrupting her. She nodded and pressed her lips together. "For some _unfathomable_ reason—maybe it was luck—"

"—or skill—" she interjected but he kept going as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"—or _pity_ , whatever it was you're on the team now. You must be so proud of yourself. But let's just get this one thing straight, _if_ for whatever reason you actually set foot on that field you better bring it. Or I swear to god if you ruin our chances of being state champs you will regret it." The longer he spoke the more pressure he put onto her shoulder until she swore she heard her bones beneath her skin creak. "Clear?"

"Crystal," she replied, her voice strained. She let out a noise of relief once he let go of her shoulder and slipped into the crowd. She rubbed her aching shoulder and made a face at Jackson's retreating back. That would most likely leave a bruise. Or maybe that was his plan; injure her before she could do anything. But then she snorted. He wasn't smart enough for that.

"Watch it."

A couple rushed by on her left side, holding hands and giggling, most likely trying to find a place to get some privacy. In her haste to get out of their way she tripped over her feet. Her breath caught in her throat as her world turned and she headed straight for the pool. With nothing nearby to grab onto, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate. Her body smacked against the water and her clothes, now waterlogged, dragged her down.

The cold water stabbed at her, seeped into her skin within seconds. Her breath stalled in her throat and she stretched outwards, desperately reaching for the surface. _No, not again! Please, not again!_ Her waterlogged boot brushed against the bottom of the pool. She pushed off and her head broke the surface. Spluttering, she ran her hand over her face to brush the chlorine water out of her eyes. Then the laughter around her filtered in.

Looking around, her stomach dropped at the sight of the pointing fingers and the sound of camera phone shutters going off. Her cheeks burned and her eyes quickly followed. But it wasn't from the chlorine; she wished it were that simple. Her lower lip began to tremble as she waded her way to the edge of pool. She could blame it on the cold air that made gooseflesh arise on her skin but then, deep down, it was hard to fight against the lump that was rising in her throat.

 _I told you so!_ a snide voice in her head screamed. _This was a bad idea._

She had half a mind to ask for a towel but her heart and the embarrassment that coursed through her body made her start running as soon as she was out of the pool. It was stupid of her to come. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy to just fit right in with _that_ group. It was stupid of her to trade in a night with her best friend to experience something new only to be ditched and manhandled and laughed at. And now she was freezing trying to run back to her friend's house with a fried phone in her pocket. Things couldn't get any worse!

Melanie jumped at the sound of squeaking metal and rubber sliding against gravel. She whipped around to see what it was that made the noise and her heart sank even further when she recognized the bike rider was Isaac Lahey. _Of course!_ As he placed his feet on the ground to steady himself and the bike she used a damp sleeve to brush any tears off of her reddened eyes.

"Melanie? Is that you?" he asked.

"A w-water-logged v-v-version, yeah," she replied, sniffing.

"What happened? Um...are you alright?"

"P-party mishap. 'M t-trying t-to get to a f-f-friend's h-house."

He frowned. "On foot?"

"M-my ride k-kinda left without m-me. There was an e-emergency." At this point her entire body trembled due to still being wet in the cold January night. Her chattering teeth were audible in the still night. "W-would have called for a ride b-but my ph-phone's dead." Not to mention she didn't want to show her face at that party any longer. "Wh-what are you d-d-doing here?"

"I just, um, needed some fresh air," he replied. He peered at her a moment longer before reaching back and tugging on the hood of his sweatshirt. Once he pulled his arms free from the fabric he held it out to her. "Here. It's…it's really cold tonight."

She hesitated. "What about you?" she asked, nodding to his thin white t-shirt.

"You need it more than I do," he said, nodding his head at her. Her body shook with a sudden jolt of realization. There she was standing in not only wet clothes but super _short_ wet clothes. She'd be crazy not to take his offer now. With reddened cheeks, she muttered a shaky 'thanks' and tugged the still warm sweatshirt down over her head, covering up the clothes that now clung to her like a second skin due to the water contained within it. The sweatshirt fell down to her knees, it was so large, and she couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she probably looked.

"Thanks Isaac," she said, brushing her wet stringy hair behind her ear. Now her breaths started to appear in front of her face. "I'll gi-give it back at s-s-school. I'll w-w-wash it. Well…ssssssee ya." She waved, the flapping end of the sweatshirt that hung over her hand.

"Wait." Isaac wheeled the bike forward with his feet. "I, uh, I can ride you." Catching his mistake—although Melanie didn't notice it—he shook his head and corrected himself, "I mean, I can give you a ride. To, uh, to my place. You can dry off and we can call someone to get you. You shouldn't be walking in the cold."

She shook her head. "I w-wouldn't want t-t-to impose."

"You wouldn't be. Really."

Nodding, she approached his bike. Deciding to use his body as a shield from the air, she settled herself down on the center of the handlebars and held on tight, lifting her feet to rest on the spokes that poked out of the sides of the front wheel. Leaning back, she settled against his chest, sighing at the feeling of the warmth radiating off his body.

He cleared his throat and, after making sure she was balanced and holding on tightly, pushed off the ground and started pedaling. He went fast enough so they made good time but slow enough so that she wouldn't bounce off in case he rolled over a rock or accidentally ran over a curb. Thankfully he didn't live too far away from Lydia's neighborhood. He rolled up into his driveway fifteen minutes later, slightly out of breath.

"Are you s-sure I'm not imposing?" Melanie asked, jumping down from the bike.

"You're not," Isaac replied, leaning over to put down the kickstand. "My dad's at work and he won't be home for a while." He dug into his pocket and retrieved his keys all the while Melanie bit her thumbnail. She was about to go into a house of the son of a graveyard worker who wasn't home at the moment. For all she knew he was a serial killer and here she was walking right into his potential trap. The sound of the door unlocking made her mind focus on the present and allow her legs to inch her way inside.

"So, um, you can take a shower. Get out of those wet clothes," he continued as he dropped his keys in a nearby bowl. "I can get you some spare and then you can call whoever it is you need."

"Yeahh," Melanie said slowly, her arms still wrapped around herself. "I need a bra."

Isaac's facial muscles twitched which was quickly followed by a strange choking noise that sounded in his throat. She gave him a look and he rubbed his fingers across his lips. The combination of his wide blue eyes and slightly panicked expression on his face made. "…Okay," he finally replied. "I'll…think of something."

Nodding, she walked to the bedroom that he had pointed out for her so she could use the private bathroom. Taking a look around, she guessed that it was his room due to the band posters on the wall and textbooks and clothes littering the floor. Lacrosse gear lay in a corner of the room reeking of that familiar grass meets sweat smell. She frowned. He was on the lacrosse team too, why didn't he go to the party?

A strong shiver taking over her body made her thoughts stop and switch over to getting warm as soon as possible. She closed the bathroom door and flicked on the light, briefly glancing around. She resisted the common urge to look through his medicine cabinet and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She twisted the knob to warm water and lifted the plunger that made the water spurt out of the shower head. It didn't take long for steam to cover up the mirror.

She shed herself of the large sweatshirt and wet clothes that peeled off her skin. Gooseflesh popped up as her damp skin hit the air and then intensified once she stepped underneath the shower head and felt the warm water hit her. She yanked the shower curtain shut and stood stock still beneath the warm water, letting it trickle down over her head, her shoulders, across her back and belly, and then drip down her legs.

This was heaven.

She didn't know how long she had been in the bathroom but the sound of knocking on the door jumpstarted her to get out. She wrenched the curtain back, only to groan in pain at the sudden movement in her shoulder. Grasping it, she stepped out of the tub and onto the rug. Grabbing a nearby towel, she wrapped it around herself and opened the door a crack to peer out.

"I got you some dry clothes," Isaac said, holding his arm through the crack in the door so she could get the clothes out of his hand. "They'll, uh, be kinda big but they should work."

She accepted the clothes and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be out in a minute."

"Take your time."

She leaned back and closed the door. She briefly looked at the clothes —lounge pants and a long sleeved shirt—and then dropped her towel to change into them. The pants were loose, as she expected. She rolled the band over a few times to keep the legs from dragging on the floor. She had to roll up the sleeves of the shirt as well just so they didn't hang down over her hands. Gathering up the wet clothes she had borrowed from Erica, she shuffled out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Placing the clothes on the floor, she walked over to the stack of CDs on the short bookshelf that had grabbed her attention.

She dragged her finger across the spines of some of the CD cases as she looked them over, moving past Coldplay, Belle and Sebastian, and Feist before resting on The Offspring. Eyes lighting up, she pulled the case out of the stack and flipped it to the back. Looking around, she spotted his CD player and powered it on. She popped out the CD that had been in it before and replaced it with The Offspring CD in her hands. The disc slid into the slot and a few seconds later the bass intro of _Can't Repeat_ flowed out of the speakers. Jabbing the next track button a few times she finally reached the song she wanted and cranked up the volume, jumping around when the guitars started.

" _If you could only read my mind, you would know that things between us…aint right…"_

There was nothing more therapeutic to her than music. She could always get lost in it, letting the notes and the rhythm and the lyrics wrap around her like a cocoon, shielding her from the stresses and the worries of the world. She lifted her arms in the air and continued to dance, jumping around and spinning in circles. She sang along to the song, dancing along to the drum beats and the guitar hits until she felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy but she kept going anyway. What was the fun in dancing if you didn't go all out?

" _I want you in a vinyl suit, I want you bad. Complicated. X-rated. I want you bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Bad._ "

The song winded down, beginning to lead into the bridge. It was only then that she got the particular feeling of being watched. Whirling around, she flinched when she noticed Isaac leaning against the door frame, tapping a phone in his palm, an amused expression on his face. She sighed, her shoulders sagging, and jabbed the pause button ith her thumb. "Alright, you caught me," she said with a sigh. "You know my secret, Lahey." She squeezed her eyes shut, took in a breath, and admitted, "I, Melanie Crowe, am a closet insta-dance-party-dancer."

Standing up straight, he ran a hand through his wavy hair and held out the phone with his free hand. "I can see why you're still in the closet about it," he commented. Her eyes popped open and her jaw dropped, the corners quickly lifting upwards shifting from shock to amusement. "Some of those moves? Yeah, they don't deserve to see the light of day."

"Hey! You can joke!" Melanie exclaimed, taking the phone from him. "What else can you do?"

"Um…play lacrosse," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That's about it."

"I don't believe you. You have to have some secret talent." He shrugged. She mimicked his motion and then punched in the number to Erica's house using muscle memory. She had the number memorized since she was eight. "Eri! Hey!" she said once Erica picked up. "Listen, something happened, can you get your mom to come pick me up?"

"Yeah, but why? What happened to Stiles?"

"It's a long story. I just need her to come get me."

"Okay, hold on." Melanie placed a hand on her hip while she waited for Erica to relay the message. She could hear her yelling for her mom in spanish. A few seconds later she heard Erica's mom yell back. Then Erica came back on the line. "She says she'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Great, thanks. Wait! I'm not at Lydia's! I'm at Isaac's."

"Lahey?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Why are you at Isaac's?"

"Due to a combination of Scott, of Stiles, of a pool, and a broken phone. Look, I'll explain all of this once I get there, okay?"

"Okay, okay. See you soon."

"See ya."

Melanie hung up the phone and tossed the phone back to Isaac. "My ride will be here in twenty minutes," she relayed, crossing her arms across her chest in a loose manner. She turned to the bookshelf again. "So where'd you get your taste in music?"

"It's mostly from my brother, Camden," Isaac replied. Melanie nodded. She vaguely remembered hearing about his passing a few years ago. She remembered that Isaac wasn't in school for about a week after that news broke out. "He liked a lot of different genres and whenever he heard something he thought I would like he'd pass the CD or vinyl onto me."

"You have some good stuff here. Though I do have to make a comment about…" she paused for dramatic effect and then pulled a CD off the shelf, "Taylor Swift." Her eyebrows lifted and she pressed her lips together to try and contain her amused smile.

His mouth dropped open, as if he were about to say something, but then he closed it. It opened again and then he closed it again. He rested his palm against his mouth and squinted at her as she laughed. "It's okay; I know she has some catchy songs. I'm not judging," she said, putting the CD back. "It's okay to like what you like." Pausing she asked the question that came to her mind, "Do you listen to her music to pump yourself up before a lacrosse game?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "No, I don't need music for that," he replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I have a different sort of motivation."

"Oh yeah?" Now she was interested. Tucking her still damp hair behind her ears she sat down next to him. "What's that? D'you imagine the other players are bugs that you crush beneath your feet or something?"

"No. I, hmm…" he turned his eyes away and clasped his hands together, "I just…think that every person is standing in my way of gaining control."

Her eyes squinted. At the core of it that was what lacrosse was about, in a way, gaining control of the ball and trying to keep running with it. But it wasn't what he said that made her confused. It was the faraway look in his eyes as he spoke. As if he was looking but he wasn't exactly seeing.

"So what made you want to play lacrosse in the first place?"

He shrugged. "It's one of the few sports my brother didn't play at Beacon Hills," he replied.

She opened her mouth, ready to ask him to elaborate, but the door flying open and crashing against the opposite wall stopped her. She flinched at the noise but it made Isaac fall off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Once he saw his father standing in the doorway he scrambled up to his feet.

" _Dad!_ " Isaac uttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "You...you weren't supposed to be home yet."

Mr. Lahey grunted, his eyes swiveling over to Melanie who sat stock-still on the bed. "I can see that," he said calmly. "Isaac, why don't you introduce me to your friend here?" She didn't like the way his lip curled as he uttered the word 'friend'.

"Uh. This is Melanie," he said, shuffling sideways. He kicked backwards and pushed her forgotten clothes beneath his bed. "She's…she's in my class."

Melanie leaned forward and waved at him. "Hi, it's nice to meet you," she said as cheerfully as she could muster. If her words could be seen in the air they would be stabbed to death by the daggers Mr. Lahey was shooting out of his eyes. She slowly lowered her hand and rubbed her lips together. Maybe it _wasn't_ nice to meet him.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Lahey asked.

"She just…I-I found her walking around and…and she was wet—"

"Oh, I can see that," Mr. Lahey interrupted him, cutting Isaac off. Melanie felt a shiver roll down her spine with the way he glanced at her. "Look, I'm glad you helped someone in need. And I bet you're happy, this is the first time a girl's been in your room, so you should be proud about that." This time Melanie wasn't alone when she blushed, Isaac's cheeks turned a bright shade of red as well. Mr. Lahey grunted. "But I don't want to end up on some teen pregnancy show. That's not what happened here, right?"

"No, Dad, of course not," Isaac mumbled.

"Of course not," Mr. Lahey repeated. With a snort-like laugh he added, "You could only be so lucky." Isaac hung his head and Melanie scratched at her hair line for something to do to block herself from having to look at Mr. Lahey. Something about the way he was speaking and looking at them made her skin crawl and her muscles tense up. "Do you need a ride home?" Mr. Lahey asked.

"N-No sir," Melanie replied, shaking her head. "I have someone coming for me. In fact I think I'll just go wait outside for them." She bounced off the bed and onto her feet to squeeze past Mr. Lahey and out the door. Once she moved past him she felt as if she could breathe again. It was amazing how one person could change the atmosphere in a room.

"Wait, Melanie, wait," Isaac called after her as she weaved through the house. He finally caught up to her on the front porch, which she regretted because she was now jumping around to keep her feet from having to touch the cold stone. "I'm sorry about him. About my dad. He's just—"

"Uptight?" she suggested, still bouncing from foot to foot.

"Intense," Isaac offered up. "He, he means well…in his own way."

"Look, Isaac, it's fine," she said, waving her hand. "Parents are weird. You should meet mine." Headlights illuminated the front porch as Alicia pulled up in her Nissan sentra. "Anyway, thanks for taking me in. It was very sweet of you."

"I couldn't let you freeze to death."

"Well, you _could_ have but you didn't so thanks." Waving to Alicia she added, "That's my ride. I'll bring you your clothes on Monday. They'll be washed." She hesitated and said, "Hey, if you ever want to hang out or something…give me a call. …Only not now 'cause I don't have a phone but when I get one and if you want to hang out or just chat or something then you can. Yeah, okay! I'm gonna go now! See you in school!"

Melanie jumped off the porch and ran down the concrete path to the driveway. She hopped into the passenger seat, thanking Alicia, and buckled up. As they backed out the driveway she waved to Isaac who still stood on the porch. He waved back and turned back towards his house as the drove down the street. Melanie's head tilted in curiosity as she caught the look in his blue eyes once the headlights swung over his body again.

He looked afraid.

**#     #      #**

"Let me see it," Erica said firmly as she tugged on the collar of the shirt that Melanie wore. After Alicia pulled up at her home Melanie had barged out of the car, into the house, and straight up to Erica's room to tell the whole story about what had happened. Erica sat, attentive as she ate from a carton of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream. But she put that aside as soon as she mentioned Jackson talking to her.

"It's not that bad, I swear," Melanie replied, leaning away from Erica and grabbed onto the fabric to pull the other way.

"If it's not that bad you'd let me see," Erica pointed out.

"Maybe I don't want you worrying over every little thing," Melanie shot back.

"Let. Me. See. It," Erica said while poking her in the cheek with each word.

"Okay, fine!" Begrudgingly, Melanie pulled the shirt down until the collar slipped past her shoulder so she could see the bruises left on her skin. She had to keep her facial expression under control so as not to alarm Erica. She didn't think it was _that_ bad but looking at it, she underestimated Jackson's grip. She could almost see individual finger placements where he had grabbed her. A fire flared up in her belly and she curled her fingers into a fist.

"That asshat," Erica growled. "Mels, you _can't_ keep letting him do that."

"Oh don't you worry! If he was embarrassed before that a girl got a shot past him he's gonna wish he never got out of bed on Monday," Melanie vowed, rubbing her arm. "Just…don't tell my mom. Or _your_ mom. 'Cause then the principal will get involved and I don't want it to turn into this big thing."

"Your secret's safe with me," Erica replied. " _But_. The second I don't think you can handle it I'm breaking the promise. Fair warning."

"You wouldn't be my Erica if you didn't have my back," Melanie agreed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "So what'd you do all night?"

Erica tilted her head forward so her hair hid her face but Melanie caught the smile in her voice, "Waited for you to come back."

Melanie reached behind her to grab a pillow and knocked Erica over the head with it. "Bonk!" she said, verbally adding in a sound effect. "Okay, okay, since you missed me _so much_ I'll allow you to put on _13 Going on 30._ But this will be the _only_ time I watch it," she said, her voice getting louder with the last few words so she was heard over Erica's squeal of excitement as she grabbed her laptop off the floor.

Huffing but accepting her face, Melanie tucked the pillow beneath her arms and lay across the bed. She watched as Erica clicked around the on the screen to bring up the DVD player. Melanie absentmindedly rubbed her shoulder while she waited and then a thought occurred to her.

"Oh crap."

"What?" Erica hummed.

"Isaac has my bra."

Erica's fingers froze on the keyboard. The two girls looked at each other. Erica was the first to crack. Despite her lips pressing together the sound of a rolling snort-like laugh sounded in her throat. That got Melanie smiling and soon the two used each other to try and stay upright amidst their body-wracking laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a longer scene with Isaac and Melanie. I don't know about you but I already like them together. And Melanie made the team! Second line, but better than nothing! And once again Erica's and Melanie's relationship makes me squishy inside. Now things are starting to get interesting with Derek showing up. If you'd like to see edits, aesthetics, posters, etc for this fic or if you'd just want to talk with me about the fic or Teen Wolf in general, you can find me on tumblr **ceruleanmusings.** Come find me, I love meeting new people!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please review!


	6. (Bitter)sweet Revenge

The weekend slipped by and then next thing they knew Monday morning came again bright and early to the scent of buttery pancakes and sizzling sausage. The girls shuffled into the kitchen, their eyes still heavy with sleep, well, the lack of sleep. Throughout the weekend they managed to accumulate at least ten hours of sleep over the two day period but it was worth it to them. Their sleepovers were cherished monthly traditions. No matter what happened, they always ended up regretting staying up so late over the weekend but then they would go ahead and do it again because it was the only time they could actually be together now.

The further they progressed in school the busier they became. Well, the busier Melanie became. She helped in her mom's shop odd afternoons, she swam and was on the lacrosse team, she played the piano, she was a lifeguard, she was on the yearbook staff, she was in the school orchestra, she sang. She did this and this and this. And while that was going on Erica would either stay in her room waiting for Melanie to call for their nightly chats or she would have a doctor's appointment to take up the time. Either way she was always waiting on her or waiting for something. It didn't bother her, it was how things always had been, but she just didn't notice it until now.

Erica waited to be picked up for school or dropped off because she couldn't drive. She waited for a meeting to be let out to have five minutes between classes to chat about some piece of gossip she had heard. She waited to be acknowledged by someone who had hit her with their backpack but that one never came. It was as if she were invisible. And what kind of life was that? Having to constantly rely on someone wasn't her idea of living life and she had three people she needed to rely on: her mother, her doctor, her best friend. The day she would be able to stand on her own two feet would be the taste she could finally taste freedom.

But for now she didn't mind getting to hear the ways that Melanie was going to get revenge on Jackson and Stiles.

"Are you sure your shoulder's okay?" Erica asked as they entered the school building.

Melanie groaned long and loud, tilting her head back in the process. Jackson, who just so happened to walk by at the exchange, gave her an odd look. "Trying to call for a mate, Crowe?" he asked, his usual smug smile appearing on his face. "You won't attract anyone with that bellowing, sad to say."

"It made you stop, didn't it? What does that say about you?" she shot back almost without a second thought. The words came out of her mouth with ease, almost as if she were having a conversation about the weather. Looking up she spotted him glaring at her and she happily waved back, continuing down the hall.

"He looked as if he wanted to kill you," Erica commented as they approached Melanie's locker.

"Yeah, I'd like to see him try anymore than he already has," she replied, tossing her lacrosse stick in. She was going to get her official practice jersey and game jersey that day. Number 16. She couldn't wait to get her hands on it. "Besides, he'd hear it from Lydia if he ever really beat me up. As cocky as he is, the boy's whipped."

As she pulled books out of her locker she felt Erica nudging her shoulder. Melanie regarded her, noting Erica's wide shifting eyes and the clearing of her throat. Was Jackson behind her? Monday's were hell to deal with, she didn't want him on her ass too all because she couldn't quit while she was ahead. Instead when she whirled around she came face to face with Isaac. Well, face to chest. She had to take a step backwards and tilt her head back to properly look at this face.

"Hey Isaac," she greeted him with a bright smile and wave. She snapped her fingers and tugged her backpack around to the front so she could dig in it. "I have your clothes here…somewhere…" she murmured, moving her hand around. "Ah! Here ya go!" she wiggled the shirt and pats out from the space her open zipper allowed. "It's all here, freshly washed and dried. Thanks again for helping out."

"You're welcome, no big deal," he replied. He accepted his clothes and opened his own backpack. After shoving them in, he then pulled hers out and handed them to her. "They're washed and dried too." She accepted them and shoved them into her backpack. "So…I'll see you in French, then."

Melanie nodded. "Sure. See you later." The bell rang, signaling for the students to head off to home room. Melanie waved as Erica looped her arm through hers and then two walked off down the hall.

"Hmm, he's cute," she noted, glancing over her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Melanie hummed, lifting her bag higher on her shoulder. She glanced back and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Okay, let's get to class. 'M not in the mood to see Stiles yet. And I may be arrested for murder if I do."

"Geeze, if you're this annoyed I can't imagine how Allison feels."

Melanie rolled her eyes. Even when Scott wasn't involved Allison still found a way to come up. It was beginning to get annoying.

The day moved by in a slow, uneventful manner and the next thing Melanie knew she was gearing up for lacrosse practice. Her first official team practice. She had to stop in Coach Finstock's office to get her jersey, which meant she had to pass through the boy's locker room to get there. Well she didn't have to but going the long way around just to get her jersey was a bit ridiculous and when else would she have a good excuse to see a bunch of half naked boys? She was only human. A human that was going to enjoy herself.

She grabbed the handle of the locker room door before she could change her mind and pumped it, only to be slapped in the face by the very distinct smell of boy sweat and grass. Blinking rapidly to keep tears away, she regained her composure and walked past the group of lockers, keeping her eyes on the door of Finstock's office…which didn't last too long as boys milled about in different levels of undress, of which she couldn't help but admire.

Their realization that a girl was in the locker room fluttered across them like a wave and soon they were whistling at her and asking if she enjoyed the view. She smirked. Of course she did, she wasn't blind, but there was no reason to stroke their already large egos.

"Heyy," Stiles drew out his greeting as he stepped in front of Melanie who crossed her arms. "There's my favorite girl. My favorite girl who can't stay mad at me. Did you do something different to your hair? It looks great! Very…washed!"

Melanie pursed her lips. "Unless this rambling leads to an apology for ditching me, you can stop talking right now," she told him.

"It does! It does! But, uh, wait a second…I have…something…" Stiles dug around in his bag which dangled off his shoulder. Melanie watched his frantic movements for a few seconds until he withdraw a large candy bar. Her eyes widened but then she caught herself and replaced her expression with one of indifference despite drool threatening to run down her chin. "Ah! There we go! It's a Hershey bar!" he waved it around as if she couldn't see the chocolate if he held it still. "But not just any Hershey bar! A one pound Hershey bar! So? Is Stiles forgiven?"

"Why is Stiles talking in third person?" Melanie demanded, her eyes on the candy.

"Because Stiles doesn't want to die," he replied.

"So you think that you can buy my forgiveness with a bar of chocolate?" she asked, keeping her tone even. "You think I'm that cheap?" His face faltered and a look of horror appeared in his maple colored eyes. He began to stammer an apology but she smiled and snatched the candy bar out of his hand. "Lucky for you, you can," she said and unwrapped a corner of it, taking a bite. "I'm a cheap bitch, honestly," she added. She stuck her tongue out to catch any chocolate that had missed her mouth.

"So you forgive me?" he breathed.

"You're forgiven," she said while nodding. "What was wrong with Scott, anyway?"

He faltered. "What?"

"What was wrong with Scott? You said it was some kind of emergency. Must've been pretty big if he left Allison alone. He was really looking forward to that date, right?"

"Yeah, it was kinda…big…" his words died off as his eyes narrowed into a squint. Melanie's eyes shifted under his gaze and she widened her eyes, silently asking why he was looking at her like that. "Your eyes are green," he stated, answering her unasked question

That wasn't the answer she wanted. "Shut up, Piles," she mumbled, making a face. And she was sure she read somewhere that that was an actual thing but she didn't press it.

"And will you stop calling me Piles?"

"No; it gets on your nerves so it's funny." She affectionately tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "Besides, I'm not…jealous or anything. I never liked Scott, not really. I liked that he was nice to me gave me his cupcake. If you gave me your chocolate cupcake instead of laughing about me dropping mine I would've liked you too. I told you I'm cheap." She patted his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I have a jersey to pick up."

He mumbled a goodbye and she slipped past him and entered Coach's office. She knocked on the door frame and waited for him to look up from his paperwork. His eyes immediately jumped down to the candy bar in her hand and he sighed heavily.

"Oh, for the love of…Crowe, am I going to have to worry about you crying in the middle of the field?" Coach demanded.

Melanie scoffed, feeling the sting of his offending comment. "I'm not on my period, Coach," she stated, watching him flinch at the word, "and even if I was I get angry, not sad."

"Good. Because I don't want another Greenberg on the field. All because he broke his finger. It was pathetic. Never seen that many tears since a sprinkler broke."

"Can I just have my jersey please?"

Coach stood and moved to the other side of the room. He yanked open a drawer and rifled through it until he pulled out three jerseys: one red practice jersey, one white practice jersey, and one red playing jersey. Bundling them all up he tossed them to her. Her face split into an exuberant smile as she ran her fingers across the numbers on it and then her name on the back. Holding the porous fabric in her hands, it finally hit her. She made the team.

"What, are you gonna hug me now? Get changed and get out there!" Coach barked.

"Yes sir!" Melanie happily replied, throwing in a salute for good measure. She practically floated all the way to the girl's locker room and was on Cloud 9 when she exited to get to the field. Nothing could touch her. Sunshine practically poured out of every orifice in her body. She didn't even mind that they had to deal with a brutal warm up session before they took the field for one-on-ones.

Danny stood in goal and Jackson, with a long stick, acted as a defender that they had to get past. His steel-eyed stare could be seen through the cage on his helmet. He wasn't messing around, not with their first game being that Saturday. Everyone was pumped up for it. Word around the halls was that it was going to be a big turnout. They would need all the support they could get.

Jackson was on fire at practice that day, Melanie had to admit. He knocked around anyone that got in his way or tried to score on him. Danny appeared to be getting bored in goal, not having anyone effectively try to take a shot on him. The line dwindled down as each player tried and failed to make a shot, which tore Coach down the middle. He shouted support for Jackson's force but then shouted at everyone else for not getting past him.

Then it was Scott's turn. Standing in between him and Stiles, Melanie licked her lips as Coach yelled for her, seemingly snapping him out of a daydream he was having. "Good luck," she whispered, hoping he could hear her encouragement. She could feel tension between him and Jackson before the whistle even blew for him to start running. She tugged at her collar. It made it hard for her to breathe. She held her breath as she watched Scott charge for Jackson…only to have Jackson knock him off his feet.

"Damn," Stiles whispered behind her. Damn was right. Melanie's fingers tightened against her stick as Coach began to berate him in front of everyone, comparing him to his dead grandmother. She shook her head. That was uncalled for. And Jackson seemed to be enjoying the moment, with how big his smirk was.

"McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!" Coach taunted as Scott ran back to the front of the line.

"Er…Scott? You okay?" Melanie asked, noting his now stiff posture.

"I'm fine," he responded, his voice gruffer than she had ever heard it.

The whistle blew again and Scott charged. Jackson ran to meet him and, surprisingly, Scott bowled him over. Jackson flew off his feet and landed hard on the ground, grasping his shoulder. Behind him, Scott fell to his knees, holding his head. The team broke formation and ran to Jackson's side; Stiles ran past them all and went for Scott.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Coach uttered in rapid succession as they gathered around Jackson as he rolled around on the ground, still clutching his arm. Melanie yanked off her helmet and stared down at him, his face scrunched up in pain. The sight made her uncomfortable. In the years that she had known Jackson he had never showed weakness, no matter how injured he was.

Scott! Tearing her eyes away, Melanie lifted her head and searched the field for him. Her eyebrows lowered and her eyes narrowed when she spotted him and Stiles running away from the field, crouched low.

"Where are they going?" Isaac asked her.

She shook her head. "Maybe he pissed himself in excitement from knocking Jackson over," she offered up. "I would have." Isaac laughed and then changed it to a cough when he caught Jackson glaring at him from the grass. Her attention had started to turn back to Jackson when something caught her eye.

Someone was standing off in the distance by the opposing bleachers. Someone in a black leather jacket and white t-shirt. Her head tilted as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had seen him somewhere before, but where…? The realization hit her with a jolt. Lydia's party! He drove Allison home. She continued peering at him and noticed that his gaze wasn't on their fallen team-member but something else. Melanie looked over her shoulder. Scott and Stiles were small dots in the distance as they ran towards the school. Melanie looked forward again and blinked.

The man was gone.

****

**# # #**

Melanie didn't have long to think about how weird Scott and Stiles were being or even that man that she saw on the fields. Come Wednesday she had another matter to worry about. She knew something was off when she set foot in school that morning. As soon as she lowered her headphones from her ears she noticed the whispers firing off around her rapidly as she walked towards her locker.

She checked her hair for flyaways, rubbed a finger against her teeth to cheek for food, checked her shirt for stains, and then started spinning around on the spot to check if her time of month had come earlier than she expected. Nope, her ass was clear. So what in the world could have happened that she suddenly had the attention of people who didn't know she existed before?

"Trying to chase your tail?" Allison commented, coming in through the door behind her. Lydia's eyes flickered up to the ceiling and she pursed her lips as she stood by.

"You could say that," Melanie replied, holding out her arms to keep her balance. "People are being weird; I wanted to check that I wasn't seeing red."

"That's why you wear black on those days," Lydia sighed, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not only is it slimming but good coordination can be a…good surprise," she continued, directing the last part of her sentence to Jackson who had walked by in that moment. Lydia grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled her lips down to his. Melanie made a face and turned away while Allison looked down to avoid the display of affection.

"Mmm, don't tease me," Jackson muttered as soon as he pulled away.

"Oh, but I know how much you love to be teased," Lydia cooed.

Melanie and Allison exchanged a look. As much as she wasn't too fond of the new girl she did appreciate that they had something in common besides French class—that they couldn't stomach Lydia's and Jackson's affection towards one another, especially when it crossed a line.

"So, uh, Jackson. How's your shoulder?" Melanie asked, changing the subject.

All traces of human emotion that had once occupied his face dropped at her question and a mask appeared in its place. He snorted, wrapping an arm around Lydia's shoulders. "How do you think my shoulder is, Crowe?" he asked. "And why d'you care?"

"Uhhh, I'm your teammate? I was just checking—"

"Checking that I could play or else McCall takes over? Yeah. Fat chance." He dropped his arm from Lydia's shoulders and stepped closer to Melanie, towering over her. He jabbed at her chest with his finger. "I'm playing in that game. And you can let McCall know that I'm playing." With one final push to her shoulder he turned away and walked off with Lydia.

"Okay, I think he broke my sternum," Melanie mumbled, rubbing her chest. "I just don't get it. Why would Lydia date someone like him?"

Allison shrugged. "Maybe she sees something we don't."

"She must have x-ray vision, then. So what's up? Why aren't you trotting after them?"

Allison tucked her hair behind her ear and rubbed her lips together. "Well, my French partner isn't here today. I was thinking maybe during class I could sit with you?"

"Ah – sure, why not?" Melanie replied. She needed to keep Scott on her good side if she was going to get any sort of answer out of him about why he's been acting weird lately, and being unnecessarily rude to Allison wasn't going to help her with that. "So what country are you reporting on?"

"Italy," Allison replied. "We're going to focus our project on its art and architecture. What about you? You and Isaac have Greece, right?"

"Yup," Melanie said, popping her 'p'. "I think we lucked out, Greece has a lot of history and mythology to boot. So we're going to do a report on some of the mythology and how it influenced current stories and religion and stuff." They walked into the library and waved to Ms. Morrell to let them know they were there so they couldn't be counted as absent. They sat down at a table and took out their books. "I wanted to act something out but I think that would've given Isaac a heart attack," she continued, flipping open a notebook. "So I get to spend my French class looking at naked people instead. It's a good trade, I think."

Dimples appeared in Allison's cheeks as she grinned but they quickly faded at a harsh whisper that reached both their ears, "Not the first people you've seen naked, not the last." She pressed her lips together and avoided the confused expression on Melanie's face as she whirled around to see who it was that spoke.

"Hey, uh, why don't you tell me a story about Zeus?" Allison asked, pointing at a book with her pen.

Melanie turned her suspicious look to Allison. It slowly faded as she pulled her eyes down to her notebook. "Well, he rules the Olympians and Mount Olympus. He is the god of sky and thunder in Greek Mythology. He's usually married to Hera and according to some sources he is the father of Aphrodite—which makes sense in retrospect. He's widely known for his erotic escapades—"

The whisper came again, "She would know all about that."

Melanie stopped her reading and looked around again. No one looked her in the eye; they turned away as soon as she came into eye contact with someone. When she turned back around in her seat Allison was biting on the end of her pen.

"Okay, what do you know?" Melanie demanded.

"I don't know anything," Allison replied.

"Allison," she said sternly.

Allison sighed. "Look, it's just…I-I don't think you want to see it," she said.

"See what?" Melanie demanded.

"D…Don't you have your phone?"

"It got busted when I fell into Lydia's pool—just tell me what you're talking about," Melanie said, holding up her hand to stop Allison from changing subjects. She was on alert now. She hadn't imaged the whispers and the pointing. And if it wasn't anything on her end that had to mean it was something else. Something out of her control. She sucked in a breath.

"Okay…but I tried to warn you," she said. She removed her phone from her pocket, tapped around with her thumb, and then held it out for Melanie to take.

Melanie grasped the phone and tapped it to brighten up the screen and then her stomach dropped. It was a picture attached in a text message of her and Isaac from a few days before, exchanging clothes. The comment beneath the picture made her heart ram in her chest: LACROSSE WHORE. CHEAP. ACCEPTS CHOCOLATE FOR SERVICES. Everything inside her came crashing down. She felt a prick behind her eyes and pressure building up in her nose. But she lifted her chin, cleared her throat, and said, "Some people have too much time on their hands," and handed the phone back.

"Are you…okay?" Allison asked slowly.

"Yeah," Melanie replied. "It's just idiots trying to start something because they're bored. No big deal. Besides," a slow smile appeared on her face, "they could've used a cuter picture of me." Allison's dimples deepened as she laughed.

When Isaac sat down next to her for them to continue work on their project she kept her words and her face light amidst the whispering going on behind her back. After the class ended and she was put at the mercy of the other students in her school she kept her head high and did her best to ignore the comments and the hissing but their words were barbed. They struck her time and time again and embedded themselves in her skin until they burned.

But still she tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the points and the whispers and the stares and the ringing phones. Stiles and Scott came up to her, to ask how she was doing but she remained cheerful and shifted the conversation over to the game they were going to play on the weekend. Apparently all of their parents were going to make it out to watch them play. The turnout was going to be big.

But even that news didn't stop the lurking monster from getting to her, from jumping out of nowhere by pelting her back with Hershey kisses. Palms slapping against one another sounded like gunshots as two boys guffawed at their joke. Looking them in the eye, Melanie picked one off the floor, removed the foil, and popped it into her mouth and then she thanked them for her snack.

During Algebra class Erica passed her a note, asking if she was okay but Melanie ignored it. Of course she was okay. Couldn't she see the smile on her face or the lilt in her voice? Couldn't Erica see that she was doing fine ignore it all? Couldn't she see that she was perfectly fine?

But the lump in the pit of her stomach sat heavy like a rock. It bounced around her insides and made its presence known despite how hard she tried to ignore it pressing on her nerves. The pressure increased the longer the school day went on. Allison would give her pitying looks from time to time, as if she were trying to apologize for everything that was going on, which only made her annoyed, as much as she tried not to let on.

Finally she caught a break. She could breathe once the school bell rang and classes ended for that day. She swapped out her books for homework that night and told Erica that she would see her later before going to the locker room for practice.

It was empty by the time she got in, the trailing voices of the female soccer players faded once the door closed. Heaving a large, cleansing sigh Melanie went to her assigned locker and spun the dial on her combination lock. Each correct number made a clicking sound and then she yanked down on the lock to removed it. Shoving it in the mesh side pocket of her backpack, she wrenched open her locker door.

"What the hell!?" she uttered, feeling a cascade of Hershey kisses rain down atop of her head. Lifting her hands, she blocked the flow of candy as best as she could. They bounced off her palm and scattered across the floor around her feet and beneath the wooden bench between the two rows of lockers. Finally the candy stopped falling and any previous noise was replaced by deafening, still silence.

Melanie pushed her bangs out of her face and looked at the silvery candy that littered the floor and pooled around her feet. The prick behind her eyes came back, much stronger than before. Pressure built behind her nose and no matter how hard she clenched her teeth her lower lip began to tremble.

"Fuck!" she yelled, slamming her lacrosse stick against the lockers. The loud clang echoed in the empty room. Yelling again, she threw down her stick and then her backpack followed suit. A dam behind her eyes broke and tears poured down her face. Her breaths came out thick and heavy and her face burned from her efforts to keep everything inside. But that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Pressing her back against the cool wall of lockers, her legs gave way until she sat on the dirty floor, head in her arms, her body wracking with unrestrained sobs. She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the door to the locker room open or someone approach until she felt a presence next to her.

"Are you okay?" Erica asked softly.

"What do you think?" Melanie wailed, lifting her head. "People think I slept with Stiles and Isaac and they think I was paid for it in chocolate and they think that I slept my way onto the team!"

Erica shoved her had in her purse and pulled out a package of tissues. She pulled one out and held it up to Melanie's nose. "Blow," she instructed. Melanie blew her nose into the tissue and Erica pinched it, sealing the mucus inside.

"What are you still doing here? I thought your mom was taking you home," Melanie mumbled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, her sentence peppered with paused due to her intake of breath.

"I knew you'd need me sooner or later," Erica replied. "And I may have detention."

"What for?" Melanie asked.

Erica gave a bashful smile and replied, "I may have tried to beat Jackson up for some comments he was making."

"You tired to beat up Jackson?" Erica nodded. "Jackson?" She nodded again. "Jackson Whittemore."

"He can't just say shit about my best friend," Erica said, reaching out and brushing hair off of Melanie's face. "That's not okay."

"What are you going to do? Beat up the entire school?"

"I can try, but I know something better that will work."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Show them up," Erica stated. Melanie blinked. That was it? That was all she had to say about the matter. Erica nodded her head, as if reading Melanie's mind. "They think you slept around to get on the team, show them how hard you worked out on that field today. Show them how hard you worked tomorrow. Show them how hard you worked by being a key member to the team. Coach Finstock put on on it for a reason, right? Show. Them. Why," she said, tapping Melanie's nose with her finger with each word. "You went against all the naysayers before. Do it again. Be the Melanie that I admire."

Tilting her head, Melanie rested it on Erica's shoulder and breathed out a shaky breath. "Sometimes I wish it was just you and me in the world. It would make it much easier."

Erica kissed the top of her head. "If the world catered to our wishes, I'd want the same thing. But because it doesn't we have to make do and make it ours." Feigning ignorance she scratched her head and asked, "Who was it that said that this year we were going to make it 'ours'?"

"I did," Melanie replied, sniffing.

"Right. Now get your cute ass in your jersey and show these boys what a girl can do. I'm not going to be freezing my ass off for my best friend for nothing."

Punching Erica on the arm, Melanie brushed away any remaining tears that stained her cheeks. Erica was the first to stand and once she stood at her full height she grabbed Melanie's hands and pulled her to her feet, then she pulled her into a hug. "Mom's getting me after detention so call me afterwards, promise?"

"Promise," Melanie replied, her voice muffled by Erica's shirt.

The two parted and Melanie set about cleaning up the candy on the floor and then changed into her practice gear. Carrying her helmet and stick out to the field she apologized to Coach for being late and did her extra suicide runs as punishment. Panting afterwards, she trudged over to the bench to grab her helmet and get a swig of water.

"I…I tried getting people to stop talking," Isaac said quietly as the rest of the team came over for water. "Told them what happened. I think it helped but, um, you, uh, you doing okay?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied, looking around at the maroon wall surrounding her, the fire returning to her eye, "never been better."

****

**# # #**

The bitter cold didn't stop Melanie's nerves from jumping around that Saturday night nor did it deter the spirit of the Cyclone supporters in the stands. Everyone was bundled up in their hats, gloves, and scarves to support the lacrosse team on their big first game of the season. Parents and students alike crammed into the two bleachers, ready for the game to start. Nothing could beat the energy that flitted throughout the field.

"Oh! Look! There's my mom and dad!" Melanie pointed out happily as she walked with Scott and Stiles to the field. She bounced on her toes and waved at them. They pointed and waved back. Their smiles slipped off their faces when Melanie recoiled when she felt another familiar thunk against the back of her head. "Seriously, they're not done with that?" she mumbled, feeling her shoulders droop. It seemed the more she tried to ignore the talk the rest of the week the more relentless they became. And now her parents were around, couldn't they give her a break? "Maybe this was a mistake."

"Hey, whoa, no," Stiles said, whipping out his lacrosse stick to block her from walking, effectively stopping Scott, who was walking in between them, from walking as well. "You stop that right now. Just focus on lacrosse, okay? Just focus on lacrosse. You got your stick? You got your helmet? Good. Don't think about anything else. Block it all out. You got it? You good?" Melanie nodded her head and exchanged a look with Scott. His motivational speeches were a force to be reckoned with. "Alright. You can do this. Besides…I need someone to ride the bench with me while Scott's out there being all awesome."

"Thanks, guys. No pressure," Scott muttered as they approached the benches. Melanie's eyebrows lifted when Lydia approached and they almost launched off her forehead when she spoke to Scott. The expression on Stiles's face mirror how strange the moment was but the two still walked away to give them privacy.

"Erica, you came!" Melanie said happily as her friend approached. "And…you painted your face," she continued, noticing the number 16 on both cheeks in black. "Eri, you know that stuff makes you break out."

"So does my medicine," Erica replied with a shrug. "Besides, you're worth it," she added, tugging on Melanie's ponytail which sat low on her shoulder.

"I'm not even playing," Melanie pointed out, her breath forming a cloud in front of her when she sighed.

"That doesn't mean I still can't support you," Erica said. "Now go and warm that bench. I'll be sitting with your mom and dad."

They hugged quickly and Erica pushed her way through the crowd to get to the bleachers as Melanie rushed to catch up to Stiles. They sat down on the bench and got situated when Coach came by to sit. He shoved Greenburg off the bench and dropped down next to Jackson, asking if his shoulder was alright, which they all knew he would play on even if it wasn't.

A few tense minutes later the whistle finally sounded which was followed by a loud roar as the opposing team and the Beacon Hills Cyclones jumped up to take the field.

"Hey kid," Sheriff Stillinski greeted Stiles as he appeared behind the bench. Melanie had to work her muscles to keep herself from hopping onto the player next to her out of surprise. Stiles pulled the glove he had been chewing on out of his mouth and greeted his father in return. "So you think you'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" Stiles repeated. "Maybe."

"You alright, dude?" Melanie asked, pushing his arm.

"Wha, me? Yeah. I'm alright. I'm great, even," Stiles replied, running a hand over his buzzed haircut. "Great, great, great, great."

Another whistle blew and the game started. Applause and cheers ran up and down the bleachers as Jackson got control of the ball and charged the field. He looked around and shot the ball to a teammate despite Scott waving that he was open. They tossed the ball back and forth to one another as they advanced.

"Oh, come on," Stiles groaned.

"Maybe they just don't see him," Melanie offered up.

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles replied but he didn't sound convinced.

The ball was knocked out of a player's hand and rolled harmlessly on the grass. Scott spotted it and went for it but in the same instant Jackson went for the ball. Jackson barely edged Scott out and knocked him out of the way as he scooped the ball up for himself. A groan went through the crowd as Scott fell onto his side. The grown quickly changed to a loud cheer as Jackson scored the first goal of the quarter with eleven minutes left. High fives were spread between Jackson and the team as Scott looked on, shaking his head.

Melanie stretched her legs out on the bench and watched as Coach jumped up and down the sidelines screaming for Jackson to get fired up. She shook her head in disgust. Were she and Stiles the only ones who saw that Jackson had knocked Scott over just to get to the ball? Did they not see that no one was passing to him?

She shoved her thumbnail into her mouth and began to bite on it as the players set up again. Her leg bounced as her foot rapidly tapped against the ground. Her focus was broken by Stiles's utter of, "Oh, this is not gonna be good."

"Why, what's wrong?" Melanie asked.

"Turn around," Stiles replied, his jaw set.

Melanie whirled around. She didn't have to work hard to figure out what it was that Stiles was talking about. Lydia and Jackson were holding up a large sign that read WE LUV U JACKSON. She grimaced. Scott had seen it, of course.

"But he couldn't actually believe that Allison is into Jackson when she's obviously into him," she said aloud. She didn't get a response from Stiles who had gone back to chewing on his glove. She glanced back at the field and saw some of the boys huddling together, talking about something. Even if she strained to hear she wouldn't be able to tell what it was that they were saying over the noise and she couldn't read lips with their helmets blocking their faces.

The team set up for the next play and it wasn't until the ref spoke to Scott that she noticed his breath clouds coming out funny. "Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles," she said pushing his arm, never breaking her gaze at Scott, "what's wrong with him?"

"He, erm…asthma!" Stiles replied. "He's having a bit of a breathing problem. Yeah! He'll be fine."

She frowned. That wasn't an asthma attack, from what she remembered. His breathing was too even, too heavy. Almost as if he was heaving for his breath. She looked at Stiles out of the corner of his eye who looked much jumpier than he was before. First the party where he acted weird, then practice when, in the blink of an eye, he knocked Jackson out, and now this. Something definitely wasn't adding up.

"Hey, how're we doing so far?" Isaac asked, dropping down on the bench. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"One point so far," Melanie replied. "Jackson scored it. He even—what the heck happened to you?" she asked, taking in his disheveled appearance. Her eyes roamed from his unkempt hair to the flush in his cheeks to the sweat on his face and to his twisted jersey.

"Had to ride my bike," Isaac replied. "Lost track of time. Did Coach notice?"

"Coach is too busy wanting to throw himself at Jackson's feet, don't worry."

Isaac nodded and brushed his arm across his forehead. The motion drew her attention to his knuckles which were red and scraped. A few still had shiny beads of blood on them but he didn't seem to notice as he fixed his jersey and got comfortable on the bench. The bowling whistle made her abandon the unasked question in her head. It could wait, the game was more important.

The game became a tense battle for the ball. Stick and hand checks increased in occurrence as the first quarter turned to the second and then the second turned to a third after half time. The longer they played the harder they hit. The teams moved back and forth across the field, blocking shots and knocking over anyone that got in their way.

Finally it all came down to the last minute and a half in the fourth quarter. Beacon Hills was down by two. They needed a good upset to win the game. The more the team refused to pass to Scott the more worked up Stiles got until Melanie and Greenburg had to hold him down with a lacrosse stick across his lap in fear of him jumping on the ref to try and see a bad call. They knew he would do it too, if he was unrestrained.

Jackson and the opposing player bowed down and fought over the ball for another play. The opposing player managed to get it and fling it into the air. It arced up and came back down. Another team player on the visiting team was prepared to catch it but Scott stepped over their head to catch the ball.

"Did I just see that?" Melanie asked, unblinking.

"Yeah," Isaac replied, slowly nodding his head. "What's he on?"

"I don't know."

The crowd went wild as Scott sprinted down the field, turning and ducking out of the way of anyone that tried to stop him. It was almost as if they were all to slow for him. He took a shot and scored another goal with a minute and five seconds to spare. The crowd exploded in excitement; Stiles the most excited of all of them as he jumped to his feet and searched for high fives.

"Wooooo! Go Scott!" Melanie cheered, waving her stick in the air.

Coach and Stiles started marching down the sidelines, screaming for the team to pass to Scott. Melanie snuck a glance at Jackson and saw his face turn to stone. She couldn't help but smirk. That's what he got for pushing everyone around and feeling superior to everyone else and forgetting that they were all on the same team.

The teams lined up on the line again. There was no restraining the crowd as time ticked on once the whistle blew. Jackson lost the fight again. A white jersey player got the ball and started to run for it but stopped when he looked at Scott. Large clouds of breath seeped out of his helmet and the opposing player looked terrified. So terrified in fact that he threw the ball to Scott and then moved out of his way.

Once again Scott raced to the goal. No one could catch him. No one could touch him. With a loud growl he threw the ball and it moved so fast it broke through the opposing goalie's net, tying up the game at thirty-nine seconds left.

"Did you see that? Did you see that?" Melanie yelled, slapping Isaac's shoulder. She barely noticed Stiles sitting back down on the bench in her excitement.

"No, I am completely blind, Melanie," Isaac replied, grabbing her hands to stop her. Despite his words he had a small smile on his face.

"We can win this, we can totally win this! Pass to Scott! Pass to Scott!" she yelled.

Jackson crouched down at the line again. Once again the ball was captured by the other team but Scott managed to get it and charged the net. Beacon Hills was already on its feet, expecting the win as Scott slowed down, drawing out the clock, surveying his opponents.

"Oh no, no, no, no. Scott, no," Stiles muttered.

"What's wrong with you?" Melanie demanded, backslapping his arm. "We're going to win!"

Time ticked down. Scott stood still and no one charged him. They all looked at one another. Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. Scott's head twisted this way and that. His opponents didn't seem to know whether to charge him or stand their ground.

Seven seconds.

Six seconds.

Five seconds.

Someone made a decision. An opposing defender charged Scott. He drew back his arm, twisting at the waist, and threw the ball forward.

The crowd held it's breath.

The sound of the ball hitting against the net seemed amplified amongst the quiet field.

Beacon Hills won!

"Wooooooo!" the audience yelled, jumping up and down, applauding the come from behind win all because of Scott McCall.

"Scott, you did it! You did it! Wooohooo!" Melanie cheered above the noise, using her cupped gloved hands to magnify her screaming.

"Yes!" Stiles screamed and then laughed. "Oh my god!" He opened his arms and welcomed Melanie's excited jump onto him as the stands emptied and the audience poured out onto the field.

He set her down and she began dancing in place, screaming at the top of her lungs at their win. They actually did it! They actually won! She hoped that they would set a good start on the season and if this wasn't it she didn't know what it could be.

The smile on her face that made her cheeks ache slowly faded when she spotted someone sprinting off the field. Number 11. Scott. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why was he running away when he had just won the game for them? When he became a hero?

That's it! If anyone knew anything about the world of Scott McCall it would be his buddy. Stepping over the bench she had occupied for the past hour, she marched over to Stiles who was talking to his father and tapped him on the shoulder until he turned around.

"What's his deal?" she asked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to where Scott had disappeared into the darkness.

"Uh…" Stiles dragged, his eyes bouncing around. Melanie crossed her arms and waited. "He's just excited! He's like a puppy! You know how they get when they're excited. Need to empty that bladder."

She grabbed his shoulder and held onto his jersey before he could turn away. She was tired of being lied to. "Stiles Stilinski, there is something going on with Scott and I want to know what it is right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally reached (and finished) episode two! Hooray! So I usually showed Erica's and Melanie's friendship from Erica's side and so, in this chapter, I decided to give you all a glimpse of their friendship from Melanie's side to explain why they're such good friends. You always have to have someone there to catch you when you fall, no matter how strong you are. I hope you enjoyed the last little bit of normalness before we jump into the supernatural side of things.


	7. Strange Bedfellows

The game winning high carried Melanie through the weekend despite the fact that she didn't set foot on the field. That they were able to score a come-from-behind win made her even more excited to be a part of the team. So what if she still got messages through Facebook about the photos? They didn't bother her. If anything it bothered the Crowe family supply of ice cream more than it bothered her. Good thing she was still phoneless otherwise her hidden candy stash would have taken a bad hit.

After the game she had a sleepover with Erica (which she had to fight hard to get because of the new curfew due the dead body being moved) and they spent the night recounting every second of the game. Well, Melanie spent the night talking about it. Erica pretended to be interested for Melanie's sake. She knew next to nothing about the rules, what hits were allowed, why sticks were longer than others, let alone the simple rules of the game but she wasn't one to damper Melanie's excitement about the sport. She didn't want to take away the sparkle in her eye or the passion in her voice.

But that soon switched over to the topic of Scott and how weird he was acting, at least by Melanie's standards'. She tried to analyze how he had suddenly became stronger than he was before, faster than he was before, had better aim, better reflexes, and didn't seem to need his inhaler any longer. But Erica wouldn't have it. She shut Melanie up by smacking her with a pillow which started a large pillow fight ending in them collapsed on her bed. It wasn't long before the two girls slipped into a heavy sleep brought on by the excitement of the week.

It was only broken by Alicia waking them up due to Melanie's mother calling her and asking for her to come into the flower shop to help out. Melanie woke up and practically flew out of bed, running around to gather up her things to get to work. Mrs. Reyes wouldn't have her leaving without breakfast so she wolfed down some eggs, hash browns, bacon, and orange juice, bid Erica goodbye, and ran out the door.

She drove to work as fast as the speed limit would allow, yawning all the way. She was surprised she didn't get into a wreck. Getting a sleep-deprived teen to drive to work wasn't a good idea. She made a mental note to talk to her mother about that. After all, she wouldn't want to lose her only child would she? Melanie didn't think so.

She swung her red truck into the parking lot and took a space close to the entrance. Grabbing a snickers bar from the glove compartment, she left the truck and the door shut with her hip. Jabbing the remote to lock the door behind her she rushed inside and ducked behind the counter.

"You're late," Arabella noted as she came out of the backroom. Melanie didn't miss the disapproval in her voice.

"I know, I'm sorry," Melanie replied, holding the now unwrapped candy bar between her teeth as she tied the strings of her apron behind her. "But if you want to blame anyone, blame Miss Alicia. She wouldn't let me leave until I ate breakfast. What a horrible human being, right? Making sure I ate breakfast instead of being to work on time. Tsk tsk."

Arabella's eyes rolled over to her as she tried to fight a smile. "Don't be such a smartass," she muttered, grabbing a pair of scissors off of the counter. "Look, I have a few arrangements I need to finish in the back that I need you to deliver later, okay? Stay up here and handle anyone that comes in. if you need help with anything holler for me."

"Mom, I've been helping out since I was twelve. I think I know what I'm doing," Melanie replied, chomping into her candy. Moving it to the side of her mouth with her tongue she asked, "Hey, can I borrow the computer?"

"Did you forget what the definition of 'work' was?" she asked, her hand resting on the door of the backroom.

"It's…homework," Melanie replied. "Do you _want_ me to fail?"

Arabella looked as if she were about to argue. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and said sternly, "You get to work _the second_ someone comes in, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Melanie muttered, waving her away. The door to the back room swung shut. She minimized the window for the program they used to organize flower orders and brought up an internet browser.

She went to a search engine and typed in 'superhumans'. She hummed as she waited for it to spit out links. Her eyes scanned over a definition, which she already knew, before jumping down a little further. She tapped her fingers against her chin as she read about genetic modification, cybernetic implants, nanotechnology, and other procedures that she was sure that Scott hadn't gotten over the course of one break.

She ran across an article about a few naturally superhuman people—such as someone impervious to temperatures or a blind man that used echolocation—but nothing about increased strength or any of the other abilities Scott possessed. She hit the back button and continued looking down the page.

The bell attached to the door frame jingled as the door slipped by. Pulling a face, Melanie minimized the screen she had been looking at and stood up straight as a woman with wavy brown hair approached. She hooked her bag higher on her shoulder and flashed a smile as she approached.

"Hi. Welcome to Flowerworks. How may I help you?" Melanie greeted with as much enthusiasm as she could muster despite her eyes widening. She hoped she the guest couldn't tell that she wasn't actually doing her job.

"Hi, I have just had a question to ask. It may be a bit strange," the lady said as her eyes moved around the shop, taking in the bright florals surrounding her.

"Trust me, I've heard a lot of strange questions around here," Melanie said with a wave of her hand. "From how edible they are to some, ahem, _questionable_ content that we put in the notes. Nothing fazes me."

"Okay then," the lady said with a challenging look in her eye as she rested her palm against the glass counter. "Do you happen to carry…aconitum?" Melanie blinked once. Twice. Three times. The lady stared back at her, waiting for a response as Melanie's mind jogged to catch up to the question. Okay, maybe something _could_ faze her. "Aconitum is—" the woman started.

"I know what it is," Melanie jumped in. "It goes by monkshood or blue rocket or devil's helmet. But it's mostly known as wolfsbane," she rattled off as if she were listing the ingredients in a Big Mac.

"Smart girl," the lady said with a smile. "You're into flowers then?"

"Well, I don't work at a flower shop 'cause it makes me smell good," Melanie replied. The lady laughed. "Anyway, I'm sorry, we don't sell wolfsbane."

"Are you sure?" the lady asked.

"Kinda?" Melanie replied, her eyebrows lowering. "It's against regulations to sell wolfsbae. Hell, you'd be crazy to go near it. It's super poisonous to humans. The toxins can soak through skin easily. If consumed it kills within six hours. I mean, the symptoms are horrible: vomiting, diarrhea, burning, tingling, numbness of the mouth and face, burning of the abs—and in severe cases—motor weakness. Not to _mention_ heart, lung, and organ failure." She gave a humorless laugh. "Talk about a draaaaag."

"Yeah, that does sound like a drag," the lady said with a little laugh. "I _did_ say it was a strange question."

"That you did, can't blame you for false advertising," Melanie agreed. "Can I interest you in something else? A rose arrangement perhaps? Sunflowers? Daisies? Buttercups?" Motioning the lady closer she said in a stage whisper, "Don't let the name fool you. They can't actually hold butter. I tried."

The lady laughed. "Thanks but I think I got everything I need," she replied. "Thanks anyway."

"Okay, bye," Melanie said while waving. "Weirdo," she muttered under her breath once the lady left.

She stepped over to the computer and maximized the internet window. Not finding any good results on the first page she clicked on the little number two at the bottom and moved onto the next page. She clicked the next page when nothing stood out and then the next and the next.

"Come on," she muttered, staring at the blinking cursor. She backspaced 'superhumans' and left the search box blank. She drummed her fingers against the counter as she thought. Maybe if she made her search more specific…. She typed in enhanced speed, enhanced strength, enhanced reflexes and put quotation marks around each entry to make sure the results came out with the words included. She clicked search and waited for the page to load.

The bell rang again and she jerked her head up only to relax when she saw who it was. "Are you stalking me, Isaac?" she asked as he approached the counter. "I'm beginning to see you around everywhere."

"Well, we go to the same school, are paired up for a project, and are on the lacrosse team together," he said counting on his fingers. "I'd say they're all coincidences."

"Damn," she muttered, "if you were following me I was hoping that you liked the view." His blinked rapidly and his mouth followed suit, opening and closing rapidly. "Joke. That was a joke, Isaac," she said and chuckled. "D'you have an order?" she asked, bringing up the software for the shop.

"Yeah, actually. It's, uh…" he paused and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, "gerbera vase arrangement."

"Hmmm…ah. Yeah, here it is," Melanie said as she located his order. "Gimmie a sec." Leaving the front she pushed her way into the back room. She moved past a rack full of flowers and turned the corner to see Arabella talking on the phone.

"Look, we'll continue this discussion later…bye," she said in a hushed whisper and hung up. "Yes, what is it?" she asked, shoving her phone into her pocket.

"Er…pickup for Lahey," Melanie replied.

"Ah, yes. It's right…here." Arabella picked up a nearby blue glass vase that held an arrangement of blue, white, pink, and orange flowers. "Here."

"Thanks." Melanie carefully accepted the vase. "Mom. Is, uh, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine sweetie," Arabella said, waving her hand. Her free hand rubbed against her forehead. "Please take that out front."

"Fine, okay." Pushing her back against the door, Melanie carried the arrangement up to the counter. Isaac stood up straight when she went to the computer and came up with the price. "That'll be $38.99." She held out her hand, waiting for him to drop the money into it. As he placed the money in her palm she noticed the now-healing scrapes on his knuckles and before she could stop herself she blurted out, "Isaac, how come your dad doesn't come to your games?" He froze, the question seemingly catching him off guard. She mentally hit herself. A question like that aimed at her would make her feel attacked, who knew how he felt. Leave it to her to stick her foot in her mouth. "I-I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that," she said.

"I-it's okay," he replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. "He – uh – he just gets busy. Working at the graveyard and everything."

"Oh, so he works the graveyard shift?" she asked. She smacked her palm against her forehead in the next second. "Stupid joke. Really bad joke. Sorry. I bet you get that all the time."

"Once or twice," he said modestly. He scooped the vase off the counter and cradled it in his arms. "So, uh, I guess I'll see you in school."

"Wait!" Melanie practically yelled. He visibly flinched at the sound. "Sorry. I was just gonna ask who the flowers are for."

He blinked and then his facial muscles relaxed to a smirk-like teasing smile. "Isn't there supposed to be some sort of confidentiality between buyer and seller?" he asked.

"Probably but I'm too nosy to follow that rule," she replied honestly.

He nodded and looked at the vase. "They're...they're for my mom."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh! Is she in town? Was she away? Or is she sick? I hope she's not sick. That'd suck. I mean, obviously, no one likes being sick. Come to think of it, I've never seen her before, I don't think. I mean, we'd all know if she worked the graveyard. S'not exactly a _normal_ job, right?"

"She's dead," Isaac stated bluntly.

Melanie pressed her lips together and then let them go with a loud pop. "Well…you may want my autograph because I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world who can talk with both feet in her mouth."

"It's an interesting sight."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

Isaac chuckled; his laugh was quiet in the otherwise still store. "So, school?"

"That magical place where we're forced to learn, yeah," Melanie said. "See you then. Maybe we can actually get more of our project done without being interrupted." She tried to hide the bitterness in her voice but it seeped through.

He clicked his tongue as he backed towards the door. "Don't listen to 'em. Okay? It's just…a stupid story."

She sighed. "Yeah but your hard work wasn't trivialized in the aftermath," she pointed out. "Besides…the only thing I got out of it was a candy bar, apparently. I would hope that I'm worth more than that," she tried to joke.

He pressed his back against the door handle until it swung open. He paused, tapped his fingers against the glass vase in his hand and then said, "For the record, I think you are."

A smile slowly appeared on Melanie's face as his words sank in. "Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome."

He waved goodbye and she waved in return. Shaking her head, she stepped back to the computer and made sure she had processed the transaction correctly. Clicking away from the program, she raised the window she had been using to see what results she had gotten. Had she been drinking something at the moment she would have spat it out at the screen.

Every link that stared back at her had to do with werewolves.

 

**# # #**

 

"Something was attacked by the buses and we still have school? How does this make sense?" Erica groaned over the PA system's announcement the next morning. Monday's were always a drag but this was worse. They all saw the blood splattered on the back of the bus that morning and it was the topic of conversation in their homeroom classes. If the staff thought that any work was going to get done they were crazy.

"Its school, nothing ever makes sense," Melanie replied, leaning on the locker next to Erica's. She glanced around and licked her lips before lowering her voice. "Anyway, I have this theory—"

"Are you seriously still going on about Scott being a werewolf?" Erica sighed while yanking her history book out of her locker. The minute Melanie saw the computer results she used the work phone to call Erica and talked her ear off about anything and everything to come across the page. She was forced to hang up with her mother threatened to forbid her from playing on the team if she didn't go back to work.

"Come on! It makes sense! The speed. The strength. The agility."

"The fangs?" Erica cut in. Melanie glared. "Mels, come on. There are _no_ such things as werewolves."

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain Jackson's locker door?" Melanie asked, motioning to the dented metal across the hall.

"A prank," Erica replied, closing her own and secured it with her locker.

"The bus?"

"Prank," Erica replied, walking away. Melanie hurried to catch up. With Erica standing at 5'8" and Melanie only at 5'2" she had to increase her walking pace to fall into step.

"But Erica—"

"Remember you thought that Mr. Harris was a vampire?" Erica asked. Melanie twisted her mouth to the side. Of course she remembered. She spent the entire last year following him around between classes to see how he fared in the sun and if he avoided anything garlic-y. It was probably the reason he wasn't too fond of her. It didn't help that she just didn't get Chemistry.

"In my defense," Melanie said, holding up her finger, "no one else around here dresses that well and come on! He's so pale! He had to be a vampire!"

"Lydia does," Erica pointed out. Which, yes, Melanie figured; she'd spent a fair amount of time with Erica going over what fashion statement Lydia seemed to be going for on any given day. Still, she wasn't a teacher so that didn't count. "Well, he isn't and Scott's not a werewolf," Erica continued, stopping by a classroom. She divided half of the books in her hands and gave them to Melanie. "I'll see you at lunch, alright? And I want to talk about something else other than your theories." When Melanie opened her mouth she quickly added, " _or lacrosse_." Melanie pouted and Erica patted the top of her head before turning and walking off. Melanie made a face at her back and entered the classroom.

She dropped her books and backpack down on one of the empty black-topped desks and glanced forlornly at a beaker sitting in front of her. She wished Erica was in this class with her. While they were in the same level Chemistry class it was split into two sections and, unfortunately, they were split up. If only they were together. Erica could be taking notes for the both of them while she continued her werewolf research.

She was up the entire previous night pouring over everything she could find. It couldn't be a coincidence that Stiles asked for her book and was looking for _werewolves_ specifically. It couldn't be a coincidence that twice in the past week Scott and Stiles disappeared from the lacrosse field in a hurry. _And_ it couldn't be a coincidence that Scott freaked out at a party that Lydia held on the night of a full moon. The only thing that could properly joss her idea would be that Scott was actually _that_ weird. But even she had to give him some credit.

Begrudgingly, she flipped open her notebook and tried to copy down the pictures that Mr. Harris was drawing on the board but she just couldn't figure out what they were for. There were some circles with plus signs in them and some circles that were blank and squiggles and lines and arrows. She wasn't sure if he was actually trying to teach or mess up her grade even more. As much as she tried to focus on what he was doing and saying she couldn't help but let her eyes travel over to Scott. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Pointy ears. Fangs. Some extra hair. But all she saw was the same ol' Scott McCall.

Her eyes then moved over to Stiles as she tapped her pen against her paper. He was in on it too, she was sure of it. Why else could he be so jumpy whenever she asked about him. For all he knew she was just being concerned. (Well, she was concerned, but he was being too weird about everything for her concern to not expand. It was his fault, really.) But did that mean he was a werewolf too or was he just helping Scott out?

She set down her pen and rubbed the side of her head. She was beginning to get a headache trying to figure it all out. Her lack of sleep definitely wasn't helping. She gave her head a shake and picked up her pen again. _C'mon, Mel, concentrate. You have to pass this class!_ But how was anyone to concentrate when Thing 1 and Thing 2 were whispering so loudly? She sat up straight to hear them better and caught something about 'blood on the door', 'animal blood', 'rabbit', and 'remember'. Apparently that was enough for Mr. Harris to hear too for he turned around and commented on Stiles's lack of whispering.

"I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?" Mr. Harris said, an eyebrow arching high.

"No," Stiles protested, as if that was the worst idea in the world.

Melanie snickered as Mr. Harris pointed at them and urged them to move and said, "Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much." She pushed her books aside and lifted her backpack off the table as Stiles plopped down next to her.

"You two can't whisper for shit," Melanie whispered as Stiles got situated. "If you need a rabbit recipe my dad can get you something."

"Are you Crowes well versed in the consumption of game?" he asked.

"Yes, in fact, our preference is elk," she replied and stuck out her tongue.

Silence settled around the room but it didn't last long. One of the girls at the front shouted about people finding something and soon they were all crowding around the window to get a closer look. They watched as some EMTs wheeled someone out on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance in the parking lot.

"That's not a rabbit," Melanie heard Scott whisper as the body moved closer to the ambulance. She watched intently only to jump and scream with the rest of the class when the man on the stretcher popped up and screamed himself.

"This is good, this is good. He got up, he's not dead. Dead guys can't do that," Stiles rationed. Melanie peeked over her shoulder to see that he was directing his comment towards Scott rather than the rest of the room. She hummed.

 

**# # #**

 

"Do people realize they're wasting their own money to continue a stupid joke?" Melanie asked, pausing her shuffle down the cafeteria line to see yet another Hershey kiss on the floor. "Unfortunately they're aiding in making me fat…"

"You're preaching to the choir," Erica grumbled. She had been reaching out for a muffin but then changed her mind and grabbed an apple instead. She dropped it on her tray and moved down to the cash register, her tray covered in food.

"If you came running with me a few mornings—"

"I already told you, I'm not getting up at the butt-crack of dawn." Erica paid for her food and waited for Melanie to do the same. They stood near the end, looking for a place to sit, and spotted an empty circle table in the corner. They made a beeline for it and sat down before anyone else could take the spot. "I don't even know how _you_ do it. You're evil in the mornings if you haven't eaten."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Melanie grumbled.

"Mellie, I still have the mark on my back when you kicked me out of my bed," Erica said with a laugh.

"You were taking up too much space!" Melanie cried out, as if that made all the sense in the world. "Anyway, I was talking about—"

"Hey, I said no lacrosse or werewolf stuff," Erica interrupted her as she poked at the meat on her plate.

"No! Not that! It's about the guy that got slashed up," Melanie said, waving her hand. "People are saying it's a mountain lion that attacked him. Can you believe that? A mountain lion getting this far at school?"

"It's no wonder they have a curfew," Erica commented.

"A bit too strict of one, if you ask me," Melanie agreed, popping some curly fries into her mouth. She had started putting another in her mouth when a sight caught her. Tilting her head she peered across the cafeteria. "Hey Eri, turn around and tell me what you see."

Popping up an eyebrow, Erica turned around and her eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria. Then her head, too, tilted as she stared at a table that was occupied by Allison, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Stiles. She turned back around. "That's weird," she muttered. "Since when do Lydia and Jackson and Danny sit with them?"

"That's the same thing I was wondering," Melanie replied. "Even if it was just because of Allison, Jackson would rather chew off his arm than do anything with Scott."

"Yeah, but it's Lydia. She can convince someone to kill someone else if she wanted to." Melanie gave Erica a look. "Okay, I'm exaggerating, but you know what I mean."

"Somehow I don't think you are," Melanie replied, glancing at the table again to see Stiles staring intently at Lydia. Erica caught her look and looked again. When she turned back around she slumped in her seat and pushed her tray away. "Eri—"

"I should just give up, shouldn't I?" she asked. "Who'm I kidding, thinking he'd like me or notice me? He's so freakin' obsessed with Lydia, no one else exists."

"And that's _his_ fault, _not_ yours," Melanie said sternly, pushing Erica's tray closer to her. "It's his fault that he can't see how wonderfully amazing you are and is chasing after someone who's in love with someone else. One day he'll see just what he's missing and he's gonna regret it for the rest of his life."

Erica made a noncommittal grunt and still refused to touch her food. Melanie started to say something else when Erica suddenly sat up straight. Screwing up her face in confusion, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Tossing her head to one side to move her hair out of the way, she brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" she said, plugging in her other ear. "Oh, yeah, she's right here." She removed the phone from her ear and held it out to Melanie.

"Hello?" Melanie answered, confusion evident in her voice.

"Yes, is this Melanie Crowe?" a deep voice asked.

"This is she."

"Melanie, hi, this is Dr. Deaton. I've been trying to contact you but it seems there is something wrong with your phone?"

Melanie sat up straighter in her seat. "Oh, yeah! I'm sorry about that. I had a little mishap with a pool. I should be getting a new phone soon. Anyway, are you calling about the puppy?"

"Yes, I am. I just wanted to let you know that he is in good health and that no one has claimed the little guy. Enough time has gone by that you can come and claim him if you have—"

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes!" Melanie cheered into the phone before he could say anymore. "When can I pick him up?"

"This afternoon if that is enough time for you."

"Yes, that's perfect! Thanks so much! I'll be there!" Melanie hung up the phone and squealed in excitement. "The dog is mine!"

"Your mom and dad are just going to let you keep him?" Erica asked.

"They will once they see his little face," Melanie rationed.

As soon as school let out Melanie rushed to the Animal Clinic, quietly thanking that they didn't have lacrosse practice that afternoon due to Coach having a prior commitment. Something about a whistle emergency. She didn't care; once lunch ended her mind became attached to getting the puppy as soon as possible.

She pulled into the parking lot and jammed on the brakes. She put the car in park, activated the emergency break, and jumped out of the truck. If the sleeve of her jean jacket hadn't gotten caught on the door she would have forgotten to close the door in her haste to get inside.

"Dr. Deaton! I'm here, I'm here. I'm ready for my puppy!" Melanie said breathlessly as she burst inside.

"I can see that," Dr. Deaton said with a little laugh. "He's over here," he continued, motioning her to a table that the little dog was sitting on. "He's had all of his shots needed and he's gained some weight so he's healthy enough to be taken home."

"Yay!" Melanie cheered, punching her fists into the air. "Ohh, I can't wait to take this little guy home," she cooed, scratching behind the puppy's ears. She looked up when she heard the bell rang and smiled when Scott came rushing in. "Scott! Scott! Guess what? I can take the puppy home!" she said excitedly, pointing to Nova as if he couldn't see the little dog. Nova's head turned to the side as he stared at Scott but then broke his gaze to turn and lick at his paw.

"Oh – that's great, Mel!" Scott said with a smile. "Have you thought of a name for him?"

"Hmm…" Melanie tapped her chin as she looked the puppy up and down. He tilted his head back and stared at her with his big brown eyes. "Nova!" she announced, snapping her fingers. "That's your name, isn't it Nova? Yes it is!" Standing straight, she turned to Scott to ask him a question but then noticed the stunned expression on his face. Whirling around she noticed a police officer standing at the door.

"Hey! I see somebody's ready to get their stitches out," Dr. Deaton said to the large german shepherd that ambled through the door. Melanie scooped Nova off of the table as his tail began to wag at the bigger version of himself.

"Hey there Scott, you stain' out of trouble?" Sheriff Stilinski greeted him as he removed his sunglasses.

"Yeah," Scott replied shortly.

"Hi Mr. Stilinski," Melanie greeted him. "Look at my new dog! His name's Nova! Say hi, Nova." Melanie lifted his paw and waved it at the sheriff.

"Hello, Melanie," he said with a chuckle. "Hello to you too, Nova."

"What happened with that one?" Melanie asked, nodding to the german shepherd on the table.

"Oh, he just needed some stitches to help heal a little bite, he'll be fine," Sheriff Stilinski replied. Then he turned his attention to Dr. Deaton. "Hey, while I'm here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about? Sacramento can't determine an animal."

Backing away from the table and closer to Scott, Melanie exchanged a look with him. What kind of pictures could they be talking about?

"This was the guy who was attacked on the bus?" Dr. Deaton asked, causing both their eyes to widen.

"Yeah, and there were wolf hairs found on Laura Hale's body."

"A wolf?" Scott asked. When Sheriff Stilinski looked at him he continued, "Um, I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for sixty years."

"Wolves are highly migratory," Dr. Deaton replied, still looking at the pictures. "They could have wandered in from a bordering state." He lifted his eyes to Sheriff Stilinski and pointed at a picture of the attacked man's face. Melanie couldn't resist the urge to step closer and see. "See these scratches here? They're claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat."

"So, what do you think, it's a mountain lion?" Sheriff Stilinski asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Deaton replied. "A wolf could chase its prey. Hobbling it by tearing at the ankles…and then the throat."

 

**# # #**

 

"Welcome to your new home, little guy!" Melanie cheered as she shut her car off in her driveway. Nova looked up at her from the small bed he was sitting on in the passenger seat. On the floor sat his new leash, bowls, collar, and a bag of dog food. "Don't worry; Mom may seem to not like you but she'll fall in love with your face as I did."

She got out of the car and scooped Nova into her arms. Maybe if she walked in with just him they wouldn't be upset that she chose to keep the dog without asking them. No one could turn away that face! Taking a deep breath, she exited the truck and went up to her house, a white Victorian style with a smattering of French windows. The lights on inside cast a golden glow on her yard and she could see her mom and dad talking in the breakfast nook. Her fast moving steps slowed as she got close enough to read the expressions on their faces and then she stopped and sighed. Their faces appeared tense and tight. They had obviously been arguing about something or were in the middle of it.

"Well, this will stop all the fighting," she declared, kissing the top of Nova's head. She marched up the front stairs, stepped past the wraparound porch and walked into her home. She closed the door with her foot behind her and called out a greeting. The hushed whispers that floated from the nook stopped and were replaced by footsteps. "Surprise!" she cried out once her parents turned the corner. "This is Nova!"

"Melanie," Arabella said, stopping short. "Where did you get that?"

"Remember, I found him about a week and a half ago. Or was it two weeks?" she shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Anyway! No one claimed him so now he's ours! Isn't that great?"

"I've always wanted a dog," Laurence said, stepping forward to take the dog out of Melanie's arms.

"Sweetie, you have to take it back," Arabella said, clasping her hands together. "We don't have time for a dog."

"Yeah we do!" she protested. "Some days you don't go into work until late. And I can take care of him before school and dad can come home on his break and I can take care of him after lacrosse!" She stuck out her lower lip. "Please?"

"Melanie," Arabella sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We can't."

"C'mon, Bell," Laurence said, taking Nova out of Melanie's arms and held it up to his wife's face. "Look at him!" Nova stuck out his small tongue and licked her nose.

"We do not. Have time. For a dog," she said sternly, looking Laurence in the eye.

"You always said that I could take on more responsibilities around the house," Melanie jumped in. "And this is the biggest one. Please, Mom, please? I've always wanted a dog! Please!" She dropped to her knees and grabbed Arabella's arm. "I'm _begging_ you!"

"Melanie, get off the floor," Arabella ordered, her lip twitching ever-so-slightly in the corner. Melanie jumped to her feet and tucked her hair behind her ear. "We'll talk about this later. For now, let's eat," she said. She shot Laurence a look and turned on her heel.

Once she disappeared around the corner Melanie and Laurence high-fived. "Don't worry; I'll work on her," he said.

"Hey, Dad, wait," Melanie said, grabbing his arm. "What were you two fighting about earlier? I saw you through the window."

"It's nothing, Hummingbird," he replied, kissing her forehead. "We just got into a little disagreement. Nothing to worry about." He set Nova down on the ground and he immediately started to sniff around the house. "Where's the rest of his stuff?"

"Stuff? What stuff? He has stuff?" Melanie asked with a nervous laugh.

Laurence gave her a look. "In the truck, right?"

"Right," Melanie conceded.

"Go help your mother with dinner; I'll get the rest of the supplies."

Melanie patted Nova on the head and went into the kitchen to help her mother carry dishes to the table. Arabella was muttering something under her breath but brushed Melanie off when she asked about it. She dropped the subject and carried silverware over to the table.


	8. Wolfsbane of My Existence

 

The week went by at a sluggish pace with hardly any news about the mountain lion attack, save for the bus driver dying. That put a damper on a few days of school but things went back to normal after the days passed. The curfew enforced by the police department was enforced then more than ever, to the teens' chagrin but they dealt with it and moved on with their lives as best as they could. Melanie, however, couldn't move on.

Between looking for more wolf facts and werewolf information she had an increase in intensity with lacrosse practice to deal with, Erica still being upset over Stiles's infatuation with Lydia, a new puppy to potty train, parents that seemed on constant edge with one another, that _stupid_ picture that was still going in circulation and the fact that Isaac was hiding something from her. She hadn't expected him to tell her outright what was going on even while she had suspicions but she felt they were on their way to being friends so that had to count for something, right?

She waved at him in the halls and stopped to chat whenever she had a second. Half of their French classes were spent working on their project and the other half was spent talking about lacrosse or the goings on around school or a bit about their families. Hell, he even started waiting for her to leave the locker room so they could walk to the field together. So why didn't he trust her? Not that she was only into their tentative friendship _for_ the trust to get information out of him but it was beginning to get frustrating.

Added atop of that frustration was that Scott and Stiles were _still_ acting funny. They were having more whispered conversations in the middle of the school than normal. They lurked around corners and appeared jumpy. Scott even had a few outbursts in classes that he never had before, almost as if his patience was being tested or that something was bothering him. Melanie was sure, she was _sure_ she knew why but the more she thought about it the more she knew she didn't have anyone to talk to about her suspicions that wouldn't think she was crazy. Erica already didn't want to hear about it and if she tried her parents? They would probably send her to get her head examined. No that she blamed them.

It did sound crazy. Werewolves running around beneath people's noses, attacking people in the middle of the night, causing mass hysteria and a curfew to come into effect and pt stress on everyone's heads. That was ridiculous. But then the idea of a werewolf being on the lacrosse team and helping them kick off their newest season. That was even _more_ ridiculous but to Melanie there was no other logical explanation. And that was it, in a nutshell. None of this was logical. But maybe sometimes logic just couldn't be used in some instances in life and maybe this was one of them.

But that didn't mean that reason couldn't come into play. Just like there had to be a _reason_ that the leather jacket wearing boy that Melanie had seen a few times before was slowly making his way through the hall. She had to blink rapidly to be sure that she wasn't seeing things but with each blink he didn't disappear. What in the world was he doing at _school_? In the middle of the day? Looking like _death_?

She ducked behind a wall nearby and watched as he slowly approached Jackson. His pale, gaunt skin looked worse beneath the fluorescent lights of the school. Not that did any favors for the rest of them but he looked worse.

She squinted, trying to read their lips but it was hard, especially with Jackson's natural body movements as he spoke. She could only imagine he was making fun of the leather-bound boy. He said something for him to walk away but Jackson grabbed onto him, only for the boy to slam him up against his locker. At first Melanie felt a swell of pride for someone was _finally_ able to put him in his place but that was quickly replaced with sympathy for him. Even someone as evil as Jackson didn't deserve that shit.

Melanie's eyes widened briefly and she ducked behind the wall when he turned around. She held her breath, doing her best to stay silent as her mind raced, wondering how in the _world_ someone could just easily walk into the school like that. Didn't they have security or something around the school to prevent that? She made a mental note to check up on it later because it obviously wasn't working now. So what was she supposed to do? Go running to the principal about how there was someone in the school who she was sure had malicious intent without proof? Fat chance. Even she wasn't stupid enough to go after him without proof.

So she waited. She went through her day as best as she could, trying to act as normal as she could although she waited and expected for something to happen or for the guy to barge right into her class and…well, she hadn't gotten that far with the thought. He could do anything since he was in school already and, apparently, looking for Scott. She went through her classes, she studied with Erica, she worked on her project with Isaac, she ate lunch with Scott and Stiles (Erica was now avoiding anything Stiles related, which included eating in the lunchroom), and she even spent some time talking with Allison about their mutual love of Arcade Fire and running.

It wasn't until the last bell ring of the day that jump started everything. She had almost forgotten all about the strange guy in the halls by the time the day was over. Since they didn't have lacrosse that day she was ready to go straight home and play with her new puppy. Erica was going to come over later, she had a consultation to see if there was any way she could combat the weight gain due to her medicine.

"So Scott's studying with Allison today?" Melanie asked as she walked with Stiles through the hall of the school towards the exit. They had managed to park next to each other that morning so they decided to walk out to their cars together.

"If he's going to do anything interesting in his life that I can live through, he won't be studying with her," Stiles replied.

"Why? What else would he be doing?" she asked.

He stopped walking and she almost ran into him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nooooo…?" she stretched out.

"What do you do when you're studying?"

Her eyes swiveled in their sockets as she thought. "Er…I study," she replied. "Well, I _try_. It doesn't usually work out."

"That's–no! That's _not_ what's going to be happening today!" Stiles replied, holding up his finger. "Something is going to happen! Something is _going_ to happen! I need a good story to live off of."

Melanie snorted. "I think you need a cold shower, that's what you need," she said, pushing open the door with her back. "Like, a lifetime of it."

"I probably do, not gonna lie. It'd be a better one if someone joined me."

"Oh my god, you need to stop!"

The two laughed as they went their separate ways, Stiles to his blue jeep and Melanie to her red truck. She got in and buckled herself in and waited for Stiles to back out of his space so she could fall in behind him. They had barely moved forward in the line when Stiles slammed on his brakes causing a backup. Melanie's hand hovered over her own horn when her peering through her windshield and then through his made her pause.

It was him! It was the guy! He had stepped out in front of Stiles's jeep, causing the backup. Was he trying to get Stiles in an accident? Her mind raced with possibilities as to why he was there while the rest of her body moved on autopilot. And apparently autopilot was throwing her car in park, grabbing her lacrosse stick, and rushing towards the guy who was now surrounded by Scott and Stiles Which, she thought once her brain finally caught up with her, wasn't too smart if he had a gun on him.

"Help me put him in your car," Scott was saying when Melanie rushed over.

"Stiles, did you hit him?" Melanie asked, clutching her lacrosse stick in his hands.

Stiles whirled around; his mouth gaped like a fish. His eyes bounced around as he tried to think of something to say. "No! He just ate some…bad sushi. Real bad food poisoning," he replied.

"Cut the crap," Melanie ordered. She used her stick to point at the guy on the ground. "He's been following you around for ages, hasn't he? He was– he was at Lydia's party! He was at a lacrosse practice one time! He was even at our last game! What is he, some sort of pedophile?"

The sick boy managed to glare at her at her question and she visibly flinched as Scott dragged him over to the passenger side of Stiles's car.

"No, Mel, he's not, we know him," Stiles replied, running a hand over his hair while backing away from her. Her hands tightened on the shaft of her crosse. She hated it when they did that. She was just so tired of it. "It's just complicated, okay? But we got it under control—"

Melanie stepped towards him. "You think you can control a werewolf?" she blurted out, making Stiles stop in his tracks amidst the honking of the horns. Now he _really_ looked like a fish gasping for air.

"Wh-what are you—?" his question was cut off when she pressed the handle of her lacrosse stick against his neck and shoved him against the door to his car.

"Don't try to smooth talk your way out of this, Stilinski. You may be as slick as butter when you need to be but not about this." Dropping her voice she said, "I think I know what's going on. And if I'm right…I can help you."

"Mel, you don't want to get involved."

She held his gaze and then motioned to her stick. "I kind of already am, aren't I?" More honks shot out around them.

"This isn't like you thinking Mr. Harris is a vampire."

"I know." Despite her heart hammering in her chest she managed to crack a smile. "This is real." She released him and dropped her stick to her side.

"… _Fine!_ Just…get in your car and follow me. And don't! Say! Anything!"

"Aye aye, captain!" Melanie saluted him and backed away so Stiles could get into his jeep. She jogged over to her truck, threw her lacrosse stick into the back, and then got into the driver's seat, managing to get buckled up at light speed to follow Stiles out of the congested parking lot. Her hands shook against the steering wheel and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm down her nerves. She had gotten herself into shit before but this one had to take the cake.

She followed Stiles closely as they drove down the road. The silence in her car had gotten to her and she needed something to drown out her heavy beating heart. She tried tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel but that didn't help. She tried the radio but after a long string of commercials she switched to a CD. But then _that_ didn't work, she couldn't get lost in the music as she usually did, so silence became her companion. But it made her even more restless. She couldn't stand silence. It made her antsy; she had to fill it somehow.

Her silent torture was given a reprieve when Stiles pulled over to the side of the road. She pulled in behind him and squinted, waiting to see if something was wrong. Stiles seemed to be waving his arms around and she slumped in her seat. They were having an argument. Great. She began to count cars as she waited for them to get going again, reaching twenty-seven that had passed as she sat there. Whatever argument Stiles and the guy seemed to be having finally ended when the lights appeared on the back of his car and they rolled forward. Melanie pressed her foot against the brakes to take the car out of park and followed close behind them once more.

After a while they pulled over again and Melanie left her car to figure out what was going on. Stiles reported that he didn't have a place to take Derek so they were stuck for a while. Hearing that, Melanie made sure her car was locked, her personal belongings were secure, grabbed her lacrosse stick—"just incase!" she said when Stiles gave her a peculiar look—and jumped into the backseat.

Minutes turned to an hour. The sun had begun to set as they waited for any word from Scott. Stiles texted him a few times and got no answer, which only seemed to frustrate him more than he already was.

"Is he still studying with Allison?" Melanie asked, leaning between the seats.

"Put finger quotes around the word studying, but yes," Stiles replied, rubbing his forehead. "He's going to try and find whatever kind of bullet it was that he was shot with." He jerked his thumb over to the guy—who she finally learned was called Derek Hale—who was resting with his head against the window.

"Oh. Well, that's gonna take a while," she stated.

"No shit."

"Why…is she here?" Derek breathed.

"Because she has an overly large nose," Stiles replied.

Melanie stuck her tongue out at him. "For the record it's cute as a button," she told him. She then turned to Derek. "Also because Thing 1 and Thing 2 have a _horrible_ time at whispering and they were being freakishly weird for weeks. They can't cover tracks so I just put two and two together to figure out what was going on. It also helps that I'm a walking talking Supernatural encyclopedia."

"Wait, how did _you_ find out but Jackson is still in last place over this whole thing?" Stiles asked, turning around.

"Because it's _Jackson_." Melanie rolled her eyes. "That should tell you something. Have you ever seen him in the library? He's not dumb but he's not entirely logical." She paused. "Y'know, that explains why he is super obsessed with Scott. Like, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy level of creepy. Circa _Half-Blood Prince_."

Stiles didn't acknowledge her comment. Instead he picked up his phone and dialed Scott's number. She noticed he jabbed his thumbs against the screen. He was clearly agitated. Melanie pressed her lips together and rested her arms on the backs of their seats as she waited for Scott to answer.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles demanded once Scott picked up the phone. "And by the way he's starting to smell." There was a pause in the conversation and Derek slowly shifted his head to glare at Stiles. Leaning forward, Melanie stuck her nose by his armpit and sniffed, nodding her head in confirmation. She shrunk when Derek glared at her as well. "Like death!" Scott's muffled voice was heard on the line, prompting Stiles to ask about his boss which clicked in Melanie's mind that they were going to the animal shelter. She had to bury her face in her arms to keep from laughing out loud. A werewolf in an animal shelter. Things were just writing themselves!

"Alpha?" Melanie repeated, sitting higher up in her seat. "Like…alpha, beta, gamma, delta?"

"Yeah. Only the alpha is a raging werewolf that bit Scott so now he's part of his pack," Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Gimme that," Melanie said, snatching the phone out of Derek's hand. "Scott! You're part of someone's pack?"

"Wha—Mel? What are you doing there?"

"We don't have time for this, McCall. Stiles will fill you in later. What's this I hear about an Alpha wanting you to kill people?" She paused and then gasped. "So _that's_ what you two were talking about with the rabbit in Chemistry!"

Derek pulled the phone out of her hand and growled, "Find that bullet!" before hanging up the phone.

"Didn't have to be so rude," Melanie grumbled. Derek rolled his eyes. "Okay, you two get going. I'll get my car and follow you."

"Why don't we just take you?" Stiles asked.

"I don't want to leave my car sitting on the side of the road."

"It's a hunk of junk! People are going to think it broke down…rightfully so." She smacked him on the back of the head. It may be a hunk of junk but it was _her_ hunk of junk and she was proud of it. But he did have a point so she sat back and got comfortable as he started up the car again.

 

**# # #**

 

Stiles found the key where Scott had told him it was left and he unlocked and opened the door as Melanie tried to help Derek inside but it was hard due to him not wanting to be touched and her being so short compared to him he couldn't rest his weight on her. But she tried so it was a win in her books. Stiles turned on the light and Derek collapsed against a pile of dog food bags. Barking dogs could be heard in the distance. A ding sounded and Stiles reached into his pocket to check his phone.

"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek and Melanie replied in unison, although Melanie spoke with massive amounts of 'duh!' dripping off her words.

"He has to bring me the bullet," Derek continued.

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"Because I'm going to die without it."

"Who would have a wolfsbane bullet?" Melanie asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"A hunter," Stiles replied. Melanie made a face. "A _werewolf_ hunt—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupted him. "I mean…you can't handle wolfsbane without proper precautionary measures. The toxins can soak through the skin. Don't even _think_ about ingesting it. Which means it had to be handled by someone who knew what they were doing but…" her words slowly trailed off and her face morphed into an expression of absolute horror.

"What? What is it?" Stiles demanded.

"Flowerworks," Melanie whispered.

"What? Your flower shop?"

"Yeah. " She licked her lips and gulped. "Last Sunday…a woman came in…asking if we carried any wolsbane, which is stupid because of how poisonous it is. I mean, why would you make a bouquet just to kill someone with it? I mean, I guess if you had a _grudge_ — "

Stiles grabbed her shoulders. "Mels! Focus!"

"Right, sorry! Anyway, a lady came in asking if we had it. And I told her no and I told her _why_ —it being poisonous and all—and I mentioned the toxins and side-effects and stuff." She slowly shook her head. "I didn't…I never thought…"

"What, so…so someone made a bullet _out of_ wolfsbane?" Stiles demanded.

Melanie slowly nodded. "Or…or soaked one in its toxins, yeah." They turned their heads to look at Derek who was staring hard back at them. "That's…that's not food poisoning," she muttered. Stiles let go of her and hurriedly sent a text on his phone as Melanie approached Derek. His heavy eyebrows were lowered as he watched her getting closer. She knelt by his side and lightly touched his arm. He jerked it away, of course. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought it was just a random question."

Derek didn't reply. Not that she thought he would. He was getting worse by the minute. All color seemed to have drained from his face. She knew for humans wolfsbane could kill fast but he seemed to be more resilient. The werewolf powers had to come into play. As concerned as she was she couldn't help but be extremely fascinated with him.

"Let's get him inside," she said as she stood. "It wouldn't help us if we all got arrested while he's dying."

"Yeah, alright," Stiles replied. They both grabbed one of Derek's arms and pulled him to his feet. Shuffling beneath his weight, they entered the animal clinic through a back and took him into an operating room. Stiles turned on a light once they entered the room. Derek pulled away from them and tugged off his shirt.

"Whoa," Melanie uttered, staring at his bare upper body. It was impressive, even if he did have weird black lines running up his arm and his skin was as pale as paper. She couldn't help but stare.

"Mel," Stiles admonished, slapping her on the arm.

"Sorry," she said, turning her eyes away, biting down on her lip to keep from smiling. She didn't need Stiles making fun of her and it was in bad taste to stare at the physique of someone dying.

"If the infection reaches my heart it'll kill me," Derek relayed before moving around the room to find something.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles asked. Now it was Melanie who slapped his arm. If her ogling wasn't going to help matters his sarcasm wasn't either.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time…last resort," Derek replied.

"Which is?" Stiles asked.

Derek didn't reply right away. He opened a cabinet door and then knelt to picks something up. Melanie's head tilted at the large tattoo in the center of his back, three connected spirals. But then her eyes widened when he whirled around with a blade.

"You're gonna cut off my arm," he replied.

Melanie made a face. "That's…kinda…drastic," she pointed out. Derek ignored her as he grabbed a piece of blue stretchy plastic and held it in his mouth.

"What if you bleed to death?" Stiles demanded.

"It'll heal if it works," Derek said as he tied the blue plastic around his arm.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?"

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the _blood_."

Derek dropped his arm and glared at Stiles.

"He's a bit squeamish with that sort of thing," Melanie explained.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek asked incredulously.

"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Stiles replied.

Derek, clearly frustrated at the point, threatened for Stiles to cut off his arm unless he wanted his head chopped off. He grabbed Stiles by the collar of his jacket which made him change his mind real fast. Despite the tense situation Melanie giggled at his changing tune but stopped when Derek puked…black blood?

"Sick!" she cried out, watching it splatter against the ground.

Derek relayed that it was his body trying to heal. Melanie's guess was that his organs were starting to shut down, either way they didn't have much time left so Derek ordered Stiles to saw off his arm. Melanie covered her eyes. She didn't want to watch the blood bath. Her muscles tensed when she heard Stiles pick up the handsaw and the blade start to whirl. Any second she would hear it ripping through flesh and—

"Stiles?" Scott's voice called out. The whirring of the blade stopped and Melanie removed her hands from her eyes.

"Scott?" Stiles repeated.

Scott burst into the room and, rightfully so, freaked out at the sight of Stiles holding the saw against Derek's arm. Stiles let go of the saw and laughed in relief. Scott then dug into his pocket and pulled out the wolfsbane bullet, handing it over to Derek. But before he could do whatever it was he was going to do with it, he fell over, dropping the bullet. It rolled and fell down a small grate on the floor. Scott rushed for it while Stiles and Melanie began shaking Derek to get him to wake up.

"Come on, get up," Melanie muttered, shaking Derek's head from side to side but nothing happened.

"Please don't kill me for this," Stiles muttered and then punched Derek's cheek. It got him to wake up but Stiles recoiled as he held his aching hand.

"I could have told you that wouldn't work," Melanie said as they helped Derek to his feet.

"Why didn't you stop me then?" Stiles demanded.

Melanie shrugged. "People have to learn from their mistakes, right? Even the stupid ones."

Derek got to his feet and moved over to the table. He bit the top off the bullet in an amazing show of strength and dumped the gunpowder on the table. He lit it with a lighter and, once it burned off, dumped the powder onto his wound. But that wasn't the end of it. He then proceeded to stick his finger in the wound. His scream caused Melanie to start screaming, more out of shock at what she was seeing rather than sympathy pain.

Derek fell to the floor, writhing in pain as he continued to scream, a wolf-like growl rumbled in his chest at one point. They watched in awe as blue smoke lifted from the wound and his skin reverted back to normal before their eyes. The bullet and the bullet wound disappeared.

"That was… _awesome!_ " Stiles cried out. Melanie nodded her head. She couldn't have said it better herself.

"Okay, we saved your life. Now you can leave us alone," Scott said firmly. "And if you don't I'm going back to Allison's dad and tell him everything—"

"Allison's dad?" Melanie repeated.

"He's a hunter, long story," Stiles said with a wave of her hand.

"Aww, what a shame. Her dad's kinda hot but…" she stopped talking at the incredulous look on Stiles's face.

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek demanded. "You think they can help you?"

"Why not?" Scott asked.

"Probably because they want to kill you," Melanie cut in. When they all turned to look at her she held up her hands and mimed locked her lips together.

"C'mon, Mel, I'll drive you back to your car," Stiles said. She nodded and followed him out, glancing over her shoulder to look at Scott. Sighing, she turned back around and walked out of the room. "Well…welcome to the wonderful world of werewolves," he joked as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

She managed a laughed. "Try saying that five times fast."

 

**# # #**

 

It was late by the time Melanie got home that night. Her mind still hadn't caught up to what exactly she had just witnessed and it didn't have time to process it either for as soon as she stepped through the front door of her home her ears were assaulted with the noise of her parents yelling at one another. Again.

"This isn't my fault, Bell!" Laurence yelled.

" _You're_ the one who gave her that truck in the first place! I should have never let you do it!" Arabella yelled back.

"I had it all checked out before I gave it to her. If it weren't drivable I wouldn't have given it to her!"

"Well that's easy to say but she's still missing!"

"No, I'm not, I'm right here," Melanie replied, entering the kitchen. She had barely set her backpack down when Arabella ran forward and hugged her but she wasn't too happy with her parents at the moment to hug them back. She was supposedly missing and the only thing they do is fight with one another instead of look for her? "My car ran out of gas and I walked to find a place nearby. Went back, called a tow truck, went _back_ to the station got gas, and came here." As soon as the lie came out of her mouth she noticed the holes in her story but she hoped her parents didn't catch them.

"How come you didn't call anyone?" Laurence demanded.

"I have no phone!" Melanie replied. She grabbed her backpack. "Now, if you'll excuse me I want to take a bath and get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"Erica came by but then she left. She wants you to call her," Arabella relayed.

"Okay, I will once I get upstairs."

"No, now." Melanie turned, about to ask what her mother's impatience was for and then she saw the brand new cell phone sitting in her hand. "We were going to surprise you with it today but…" her voice trailed off and a wavering smile appeared on her face. "Anyway, we hope you like it. Your contacts and everything has been backed up."

"Great, thanks!" Melanie took the phone, bent over to scoop up Nova who had been biting at her shoelace and ran upstairs. She fired off a quick text to Erica— _Got a new phone! Sorry I wasn't around, had car trouble. See you tomorrow?_ —dropped her things off in her room and went to the bathroom to soak as many of her troubles away as she possibly could. Though the trouble of her parents arguing seemed to be one that was going to stay for good.


End file.
